


One in a Million

by ch19777



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-04
Updated: 2009-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch19777/pseuds/ch19777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teresa Lisbon's life is about to change drastically when she finds out she's pregnant. She'd rather get through it alone, but there's the persistence of a certain blond-haired consultant who'll turn her world even more upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Red Lines

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The usual applies - I own nothing of the Mentalist but the idea for this story. 

Teresa Lisbon is sitting on the rim of the bathtub in the - even though scarcely decorated, yet still very homey - bathroom of her rented three-room apartment. She loves this room, sometimes even better than her cozy living room. With its stained-glass window, lit up beautifully by the last rays of the setting sun, it provides the perfect atmosphere for relaxation during a bubble bath after a long, hard day of work.

Tonight though, Teresa is oblivious of the sunlight and the patterns it paints on the wall next to her. She is waiting, all the while stopping herself from glancing at her watch every 5 seconds. She set an alarm, she will know when time is up. She could do something else instead of just waiting. Reading. Or maybe watching TV. But she chooses to just sit there, staring at the wall and trying _not_ to think about what she is waiting for, about the consequences she might have to deal with when those five minutes are over.

Finally the alarm ends her misery. Or maybe it just rings it in, she thinks, as she slowly rises to her feet to pick up the small, white device she placed on the washing machine earlier. What she sees isn't all that surprising. Two red lines. Which have the same meaning as the one blue cross she got this morning or the one violet line she got yesterday. Or of course, the infamous digital indication that she got today during lunch break, spelling out in big fat letters to her that she is indeed "pregnant".

She isn't really prepared for this result any more than two weeks ago, when she first noticed that her period was late. At first she strictly dismissed the idea of being pregnant. She works too hard, she eats irregularly - it was certainly her erratic lifestyle that confused her body. Even though her body never seemed to have a problem with it before. Day after day passed and she eventually had to admit to herself, that a pregnancy wasn't only possible, but also very likely. When she finally took the first test, she was still shocked by the result. So she took another test, and then another.

Walking to her bedroom, her hand instinctively wanders to her still flat stomach, tentatively establishing a first contact to the human being growing inside of her. Is she ready for this? A baby? Raising a kid alone? In her mind she takes stock of her current life situation.

She isn't in a relationship. Nor will be in the foreseeable future, seeing that she has a baby on the way. She wasn't even really in a relationship when that baby was conceived. They slept with each other exactly three times before ending whatever relationship it was they were having, neither of them willing to really commit. Each of those three times they used protection. She wonders how small the chance to get pregnant was. One in a million? Maybe it is fate. Maybe this baby is so keen on becoming a part of her life that it found a way into it against all odds. She knows that she is being silly, but at least she can now blame it on hormonal changes.

Her job is hardly made for a single mother. Staying the leader of her own team is out of the question if she ever wants to spend time with her kid. But she supposes that she can do her current work for most of the pregnancy, providing that her state of health will allow it. Toward the end she could retreat to mainly desk work, training her replacement so she'd know she leaves the team in good hands. She could take some time off after the baby's birth, and then start to work again after a while, with less hours and in a less responsible position. It will be a setback for her career, but she surprises herself by not feeling too saddened by that prospect.

She'd need to find a reliable daycare center or a nanny for when she will be working, but that should be achievable.

Her apartment has space enough, so she wouldn't need to move. The room, where her computer and books and work stuff is located now, would make a nice place for the baby. For a while already she planned to clean the stuff in this room out, but she never had time to do it.

She loves kids and she always knew that she wanted to have kids of her own one day. Then, as the years went by and she failed to have a relationship that lasted longer than 18 and a half months, she began to convince herself that she was living for her job and kids would only be hindering on her way to the top. Only sometimes she allowed herself to dream, always picturing one certain man in her life. Of course things didn't work out that way.

In her late teens she had fantasized about raising a kid alone. She hadn't pictured it quite this way, rather as being in a relationship when the baby was born and then later breaking up with the father for whatever reason. It hadn't seemed difficult, rather nice, to be responsible for a kid alone. Nobody to tell her how to raise her kid, nobody to share the kid's love with. But now, so many years later, the idea of being the only one responsible for a kid's destiny is very frightening. What if she would ruin his or her whole life? But what if not? She is aware that she's not exactly in her twenties anymore. Maybe this child is her last chance.

Her one in a million.

She realizes, absentmindedly stroking her stomach, that she knew all along that she wants to have this baby. Making mental pro and con lists is a mere formality to confirm her preconceived opinion. Even though she is absolutely terrified, she believes that everything will fall into place once the baby is born. Scratch that, she is already now becoming infatuated with her baby, wondering what it will look like and picturing how she will decorate its room.

Suddenly she jerks up. Oh God, she will have to tell the team. And, more importantly, she has to tell the father. She isn't sure which confession she is dreading more. Sure, she can postpone it a while longer. Gaining some weight can be easily explained by too much closed-case pizza and too little workout. But eventually she will have to announce her pregnancy.

The team will treat her differently once they know. They will try not to, but they are all caring persons and will try to make life comfortable for a pregnant woman and shield her from evil and in the process undermine her authority as their boss. And they will surely wonder who the father of her kid is, although she doubts they will dare to ask.

The father's reaction on the other hand is totally unpredictable. The way she sees it, he will either run and never look back or become as overprotective as the others. She isn't sure which possibility she prefers. Although, the longer she thinks about it, she wouldn't mind if her kid had a father in its life.

Still contemplating the best method to spring the news to the father - simply telling? sending him a Father's Day card? - she finally drifts off to sleep and enters a very vivid dream. A dream, or maybe rather a nightmare, where she walks into the office the next day and a certain blond-haired consultant announces - after one quick look at her across the room - that she's pregnant since her boobs are bigger than the day before.


	2. Collywobbles

In the solitude of her office - feet resting on her trash basket, an untouched box with green salad and vegetables on the table in front of her - Teresa enjoys her lunch break. She really needs some time for herself, time to relax. Lunch itself is a whole other matter though, seeing that the healthy salad doesn't provoke her appetite at all. She sighs and surrenders, wondering for the umpteenth time why, now that eating healthy is important, she can't stand that stuff anymore.

She takes the ultrasound picture out of her purse, hoping that looking at her baby will make her feel guilty enough to eat a forkful of salad. The sight of the shapeless figure, head and body hardly distinguishable at this point, never fails to amaze her. A wave of unconditional love washes over her, still a little strange and unfamiliar, but she is getting used to it more each day. Altogether, she came a long way in the few weeks between learning of her pregnancy and now.

Being pregnant is still new and exciting, but after the initial insecurities about her new condition, Teresa finally isn't wary anymore of anyone who crosses her path. When she realized that most people are so concerned with their own interests that they don't have time to stare at her belly or over-analyze her sudden voracious appetite for chocolate, things started looking up. In fact, she feels more comfortable in her role as a mother-to-be than she ever thought possible. Okay, she is only at the beginning of the second trimester of the pregnancy, but still.

Apart from being constantly tired and occasionally slightly nauseous throughout the day, she is doing well. Her doctor confirmed that she and her baby are healthy. The only thing she is worried about is her craving for unhealthy food in any way, shape or form, most of all the aforementioned chocolate. Of course she tries to eat healthy, but she discovered that eating chicken makes her puke and that she's unable to swallow strawberries or spinach without gagging. The prenatal vitamins the doctor prescribed put her mind to rest a little, but she's still wondering if she's breeding a future chocolate addict inside of her.

Her favorite jeans are a bit tight around the waist, but she can still wear them. Just this morning she discovered a suspicious bulge in her belly area, but it's nothing that can't still be hidden under a jacket. Or at least she hopes so.

Whenever she is with her team, she has to pull herself together to not do something stupid again as grinning like an idiot, happened once after her mind drifted off to the cute Winnie the Pooh onsie she bough the day before. Smiling happily while discussing a ghastly homicide is hard to explain logically to so far unsuspecting co-workers.

There are times when she wants to tell them about her pregnancy immediately, needing someone to show off the first ultrasound picture of her baby or to listen to her worries about the future. But then again, she prefers keeping things quite for a while longer, or maybe even waiting until someone directly asks her if she's pregnant.

So far, there's no immediate danger though, as far as she can tell.

Minelli is clueless for sure, seeing that he not only initiated a boost in her pay but also hinted that he's aspiring a higher-ranking position within the next two years and would like to see her in his job then. She didn't have the heart to burst his bubble right then and there, feeling that he'd be very disappointed that she chooses family life over her promising career.

Van Pelt didn't start to give out subtle diet or tummy muscle training tips yet, so Teresa concludes that her belly must look less suspicious than she feels it does. Cho and Rigsby are probably the most unlikely people to detect that something is amiss with her body, so she doesn't really worry about those two.

And Jane... well, Jane is an enigma. She is always very cautious when she's around him and even more so when she's alone with him. There is no indication that he knows anything, no meaningful glances or ambiguous comments, but a little amount of healthy suspicion can never hurt when it comes to Jane.

He is a little more introverted and less cheerful lately, but that already started before she found out about her pregnancy. She knows that he has a lot to deal with at the moment and she is aware that her behavior in the weeks, after his plans to take revenge on Red John went terribly wrong, wasn't exactly helpful.

It's not that they're not on speaking terms, they are. And it's not that he lost the ability to stun her and brighten up her day and to occasionally make her blush. But still, even though she is unable to pinpoint what exactly is different, she knows that their dynamic has changed. She hates it, but she doesn't know how to reach out to him and repair their ailing relationship.

The sound of the phone jolts her out of her musing.

"Van Pelt? I hope you finally have some good news." She answers, suddenly in full boss mode again.

"Well, the good news is, we found Gregory Staples. The bad news is, he is dead. Multiple gunshot wounds to the head and chest, just as in Lauren Hastings' case. You better get down here, the local police is less than thrilled by our appearance."

Crap. Finding their main suspect dead promises to make for a long workday. "Give me the location, Jane and I will be there as soon as possible."

Scribbling down the information, she already jumps up to gather her stuff. Before putting the lid on the container, she quickly shoves two remorseful forkfuls of salad into her mouth to silence her conscience. She feels a little queasy, but swallows the food down anyway. Luckily she has a chocolate bar in her bag, just in case she'll need something later to appease her stomach.

"Jane!" She calls out when she leaves her office and walks into the direction of the couch.

"Is it time to go home already? Time flies when you nap." He answers sleepily without even opening his eyes, looking so content that she can't help smiling. It's been a while since she saw this expression on his face.

"It's only noon. We need to drive back to Elk Grove, Gregory Staples turned up."

"Ah, finally someone to wrestle minds with." Getting up, stretching and grabbing his jacket from a chair next to the couch happens in one swift movement.

"Well, unless you're skilled in forensic medicine, I doubt that he'll be able to give you any valuable information."

"He's dead?" Jane is obviously taken aback.

She nods in response.

"Suicide because he was haunted by guilt after killing Lauren Hastings?" He asks in a hopeful voice.

"Rather unlikely, he's too riddled with bullets for that."

"He still could have killed Lauren Hastings before someone killed him, right?"

"It's possible." Her experience tells her that the chance is slim, but she doesn't want to shatter his hopes just yet. It's not the first time in the past weeks that one of his hunches went in the wrong direction and she knows he takes it pretty hard.

They walk to the elevator, when he suddenly stops and comes to stand right in front of her, looking her straight in the eye.

"Are you okay?" His look is concerned and his tone soft enough to alarm her.

"Sure, I'm fine." She replies as nonchalantly as possible.

"You look a little pale." He states, still eying her curiously.

"It's nothing." His eyebrows jolt up and she knows he won't let her off the hook before she offers him a solid explanation for her pallidness.

"Really, I only didn't get much sleep last night." A total lie. She went to bed before 7 PM, barely able to keep her eyes open any longer, and slept for 10 hours straight.

He frowns. "In a good way?"

"What?" She asks, clearly puzzled.

"You said you didn't get much sleep and I subtly inquired if you had company that kept you up all night." Whoa! She isn't really fond of blunt Jane when the topic is her private life. He behaves like that quite a lot lately.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I just had trouble sleeping."

As they wait for the elevator, Jane attempts another foray. "Does your back hurt?"

Surprised she turns around to face him. "Excuse me?"

"Your posture suggests that you suffer from back pain." As long as it doesn't suggest that she is pregnant, it is alright with her.

"It's only a strained muscle." Another lie. Hey, anything to distract him from what's really going on with her body. "Why are you all of a sudden so obsessed with my health?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Only training my observation skills. My hit ratio regarding suspects wasn't exactly satisfying lately, I need to practice more to not lose my abilities completely."

They enter the elevator, when Teresa suddenly feels the weight of a hand on her back. The light contact inebriates her more than it should. These days, her body seems to be overly sensitive, and apparently overly receptive to the unexpected touch of the man next to her. The hand creeps under her jacket and she is sure to be as much blushed now as she was pale earlier.

"What are you doing?" She finally manages to stammer.

"Looking for strained muscles to massage them away. I'm quite good at this." The reminiscence of a long lost memory tells her that he indeed is.

She can't let him touch her like this. It might send the wrong message and the last thing she needs in her situation are complications due to a misled Patrick Jane. Resolutely she wriggles to free herself , but is surprised how strangely cold and unprotected her back feels after his hand is gone.

"Oh right, I forgot. Rule number one when dealing with your boss: no touching." He remarks sarcastically and stares straight ahead at the elevator doors.

"I never said that!" She defends herself.

Still not looking at her, he is silent for a while before settling for another cryptic comment. "You don't have to, your body language speaks volumes."

Why the heck is he so snappy all of a sudden? "Are you mad at me?"

"If I'd say yes, would you know why I am mad at you?" He inquires, finally looking at her again with the strangest of expressions, a mixture of hope and chagrin that she is unable to make sense of.

"I don't have a clue." Not exactly a lie, but also not completely true. She has a vague idea what might have triggered his behavior, but she refuses to go back to the point of origin and continue a conversation with him that ended so long ago. In her opinion, there isn't really anything left to say on the matter and if he still wants to hold a grudge, then that's his problem. She has too much other stuff on her mind these days.

"Well, that's actually pretty sad then." He exits the elevator, leaving her behind with a feeling of confusion and emotional turmoil. And collywobbles, but she is sure that one is not Jane's but that stupid salad's fault.


	3. Three Words

Teresa is really glad when they, after an awkwardly silent half-hour drive, arrive at the crime scene and she can finally get out of the car. Not only seems the man in the passenger seat very determined to ignore all her side glances and various clumsy attempts of small talk, she is also in desperate need of some fresh air due to advancing nausea.

Outside the car a gentle breeze starts playing with her hair and she is relieved that the air has a salubrious quality. The subtle odor of recently mowed lawn fills her nostrils and has a soothing effect on her queasy stomach.

Jane shoots a questioning glance at her when she inhales avidly, but as she looks up to meet his eyes, he walks away. She really has enough of his childish behavior. She has to investigate a homicide, reassure querulous policemen and above all she has to keep her sickness in check, so there's no time to stroke Jane's hurt ego.

Van Pelt joins her on her way over to the house. After informing Teresa of the events that lead to the discovery of Gregory Staples' dead body, she eyes her with genuine concern. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"I'm perfectly fine. Why is everyone questioning my health today?" She snaps at the redhead and rushes off toward the house where the murder took place, leaving a stunned Van Pelt behind.

The breath-taking smell of decay hits her with full force already at the entrance. Instinctively she covers her mouth and nose with her hand, a gesture not only to shelter herself from the malodor, but also to fight the urge to gag.

"Pretty bad, huh?" Jane announces cheerfully, suddenly appearing at her side. She wonders why this makes him happy enough to end his silent treatment, but all she can do is look at him because taking away her hand would most certainly evoke disaster.

"It's not the body that smells so penetrant, by the way. The coroner says he died less than 6 hours ago, so he easily could have killed Lauren Hastings two days ago. There are several dog cadavers in various stages of decay in the next room. If you think the smell is bad here, you'll think of it as a lovely scent once you stand directly in front of them. The view isn't exactly appealing either. The room is packed with maggots and... Lisbon?"

She doesn't even hear him calling after her. She flees, hoping to find a secluded place to puke, as far away from the house - and any people - as possible. No, Jane shouldn't have mentioned the maggots. Those little bastards unsettle her already under normal circumstances, but in her current weakened condition imagining them nibbling at rotting dog flesh is more than she can take.

When she finally straightens herself again, two strong arms wrap around her from behind. Feeling that she is too weak to fight them off, she capitulates and let's Jane hold her, her back pressed against his chest. Her hands are resting on her stomach and he puts his on top of them. The posture is somewhat intimate, couply even, especially considering the fact that both their hands are now covering her pregnant belly. She catches herself enjoying the moment and knows that she should end it. Someone could watch them, Jane could get the wrong idea - but still she stays in his embrace.

"Better?" He asks tenderly after a while, still not letting go of her.

"A little. Thank you." And she means it. She is pretty sure that she would have collapsed if he hadn't been with her to steady her. He once told her that he'll always be there for her, no matter what. Only now she understands that he really means it.

Here he is, comforting her. Even though they had a stupid fight, even though he is mad at her. And even though she keeps as life-altering news as a pregnancy a secret. She is pretty sure though that he, the human lie detector, meanwhile suspects that she's not nauseous due to lack of sleep. The question is if he already put one and one together or if she can use 'stomach flu' as an excuse.

She slowly disengages from his arms, this time anxious to not offend his feelings again. She turns around to face him and immediately feels vulnerable under his caring, concerned look. His hands find her forearms, soothingly stroking them.

"Did anyone notice my abrupt departure?" She asks, focusing on the problem at hand instead of getting caught up in daydreams about the future that she's not even sure she wants to come true.

"Van Pelt and Cho, I guess. They didn't say anything about it though."

"Damn." She hates to show any sign of weakness when she's on the job.

"It's okay. Anyone gets sick once in a while." He softly tells her, still caressing her arms.

"No, it's not okay. It's humiliating."

"Hey, look at the bright side: At least you managed to run off before contaminating the crime scene."

His bright smile is contagious, so she rolls her eyes in an attempt to keep her facial expression in check. "Very funny. You should have your own comedy show."

"Come on, don't be so hard on yourself. If I had eaten that much chocolate today, I'd puke too."

Apparently, hiding the evidence in the office kitchen's trash can wasn't very clever. She should have known that some discarded candy bar wrappers and a little chocolate at the corner of her mouth is enough to tip Jane off. This time, rolling her eyes proves noneffective to prevent that a full-fledged grin spreads out on her face. It feels so nice to get a glimpse at the 'old' Jane, at the men he was before things got so awkward between them.

"Looks like your observation skills are not so rusty after all." She says, taking the lately rare opportunity to tease him.

"They are highly sensitive regarding you, it's the suspects that I have trouble with." His lips are still curved with a smile, but his eyes are all of a sudden cast with seriousness.

Oh God, he knows. He knows and he waits for her to tell him instead of making things easier by just saying something witty about her impending motherhood. It should be easy, three words are enough to be honest with him. I. Am. Pregnant. Simple. Yet not simple at all. Because those three words could make things between them even worse. Or maybe better. She's not sure she's ready to find out which one it will be.

"Let me drive you home." He offers and she is thankful that, for now, he let's her get away with her cowardice.

In return, for the first time ever, she hands him her car keys without argument. "Fine, you can drive me. But back to the office. And after I talked to Van Pelt and the sheriff."

And again, probably glad that she is reasonable enough to let him drive at all, he let's her have it her way.

Twenty minutes later they are on their way back to Sacramento. Jane drives at a moderate speed (which she is thankful for) and constantly glances at her to make sure she's alright (which she finds highly unnerving). This time Teresa doesn't feel the urge to fill the silence between them with insipid chatter, she actually enjoys to just sit back in her seat and let her mind wander, always cautious to avoid thinking about what Jane might or might not know.

When they arrive at the office, he offers her his couch to rest. The gesture - comparable to a kid offering his favorite toy to a playmate - is so touching, that she's on the verge of tears after his suggestion. Stupid hormones. She declines, preferring the solitude of her office to Jane's attentive company, but he's not done yet to take care of her.

He doesn't let her enter her office until she promises to not do any paperwork for at least an hour and to drink a cup of chamomile tea. She regards the steaming brew, that he places in front of her, somewhat sceptically before anxiously taking a sip. And then a second one. This stuff isn't bad. No, not bad at all. Her newly discovered love for tea makes her miss the fact that Jane doesn't leave her office but instead settles down in a chair across from her, so she is surprised when he suddenly speaks up.

"I know you don't like me asking you personal questions, but can I ask one anyway?"

She is perplexed, then amused. "You never ask for permission, you usually just blurt your questions out no matter how personal they are."

He contemplates that for a moment. "You're right." After another moment of consideration he knows the reason for his atypical politeness. "I guess I just wanted to buy myself some time because I'm not sure I really want to know the answer to that specific question. But can I ask anyway?"

She only nods, having a lump in her throat because she senses what he's about to ask her. "How far along are you?"

That's not exactly the question she expected. But she shouldn't be all that surprised, it's just a Jane thing to skip the questions anyone else would ask since he already knows the answers to those.

"No worries, I'm sure the others are clueless. You don't even really show yet. Just a tiny cushion in the belly area and that looks really cute on you." He tells her when she doesn't answer his question right away, obviously enjoying her embarrassment after his 'compliment'.

"I'm just shy of 14 weeks." She finally admits and anxiously watches him process the information.

"Okay." He says, visibly relaxing. "So you're keeping the baby."

"Yes." She says, even though he rather made a statement than asked a question.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah, good. You'll be a great mother." A reassuring smile graces his lips. "Don't doubt yourself."

They just sit there staring at each other for a while, unsure how to proceed. It's not exactly an everyday situation they're dealing with. Teresa is afraid to say something that might unintentionally hurt him, so she keeps her mouth shut, hoping that eventually he'll either leave or tell her what is on his mind.

Finally he clears his throat and she holds her breath. "I think it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. I'll be there for you if you want me to. Doctor's appointments, massaging cramped legs, painting nursery walls - you name it and I'll be there. Okay?"

All she can do is answering with a nod, biting her lower lip to fight back the tears that form in her eyes.

"And even if you should refuse to accept my help, I want to be there for this baby."

"Okay." She is surprised herself how easily she grants him his wish. But after all, she wants her kid to have a father and that's all that matters now.

"Okay?" He inquires, obviously confused. "No fighting, no excuses, just okay?"

"Jane, I want you to be a part of his or her life. I really do."

"The pregnancy makes you soft." He remarks with a smirk, skillfully getting out of the trajectory of the eraser which she throws his way.

Getting serious again, he continues their conversation. "You do realize that being a part of the baby's life also means that I'm in your life, right?"

"Look, I know things between us didn't exactly work out great..."

"Hence my outburst of animosity earlier today." He tosses in.

"But I don't want this to be awkward." Teresa continues, choosing to ignore his interjection. "Do you think we can try to be friends and parents and make this work for our kid?"

"Friends and parents?" Jane asks, studying her face intently. "That's what you want?"

"Yes." She confirms, felling uneasy under his scrutinizing look.

"Okay, then let's try this." He agrees to her conditions, before uttering a few more words under his breath. "For starters."

Jane mumbling unidentifiable things alerts her. This is never a good sign. In fact, it most certainly means that he's up to something. "What was that?"

"Nothing, just clearing my throat." He replies, feigning innocence. Teresa decides to let it slide. If Jane's really hatching a plan of some sort, he wouldn't tell her anyway. She'll know sooner or later when she involuntarily gets caught up in it.

He gets up and walks around the table. "May I?" He asks, standing in front of her and pointing to her belly.

This catches her off guard. When suggesting joint parenthood, she didn't take stuff like Jane getting touchy-feely into account. "Ehm, there's not really anything to feel there yet, just the cute cushion you pointed out earlier."

"Doesn't matter." He places his hand on her stomach, not waiting any longer for her to grant him permission. Her body tenses under his touch as he softly strokes covered skin, all the time wearing a proud, happy smile on his face. He is much too close to her and she knows she's screwed if he plans to do that on a daily basis. Finally his hand retreats and her own takes its place instead.

He starts walking to the door, but there is one thing she needs to ask him before he leaves. "Jane?" She waits for him to turn around. "What makes you so sure that you're the father?"

"I trust you enough to be certain that you wouldn't maintain a sexual relationship with two guys at the same time." She doesn't know what to reply to his words or to his loving look, so she remains silent, only her heart beating so loud that she is afraid he hears it all across the room.

"Get some rest." He ends the silence between them. "I'll distract the others when they come back."

He is out of the door before she can even thank him for taking care of her. She drinks the rest of her now cold tea and tries to figure out if the dreaded talk with Jane could have gone better. After a while she decides to give her racing thoughts a break and get some paperwork done. Jane doesn't show up another time before she leaves to go home. She feels slightly disappointed when he is also not on his couch or anywhere else nearby when she exits her office, but doesn't exactly know why. They settled the basics and it's not that she expects him to be there for her 24/7 now. But still...

"Van Pelt, where is Jane?"

"He went out for a walk, said he needs to think about some things and walking helps him to untangle his thoughts." Van Pelt explains. "Are you heading home? Hope you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Thanks." Teresa absentmindedly answers, already on her way to the elevator. Jane needs to think? Apparently she is not the only one who's bewildered by the situation.

She drives home, only making a short stop to buy some chamomile tea, and lays down on the couch in her living room to take a nap. Around dinner time she wakes up, but is still so tired that she toys with the idea to go to bed early without dinner. No, she really should eat something. If not for herself then at least for the baby. She just unsuccessfully checks the stuff in her refrigerator to find out if any food piques her interest, when there's a knock on her door.

Not expecting anyone, she curiously opens the door. "Jane?"

"Can I come in?" He asks, already carrying a big paper bag to her kitchen. "You don't plan to skip dinner, do you?"

Perplexed she closes the door and joins him in her kitchen. "What's in the bag?"

"I brought you some delicious chicken."

"Ugh!" At the mere thought of chicken meat she turns pale, then her face assumes an unhealthy greenish color.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't like chicken these days, I'm only teasing." He quickly clears out the bag and puts the stuff in it on the table. "See, no chicken. Totally chicken-free."

When Teresa's complexion returns to a more sanguine state, he dares to make dinner suggestions. "How about pork? With vegetables and rice?"

"I guess I could try the pork and rice, I'm not so sure about the vegetables." She answers, after detecting no further symptoms of incipient nausea.

Jane insists on cooking alone while she rests on the couch and, being still pretty weak and tired, she gives in. It feels nice to have somebody cook for her, it's been a while. And the last time someone did that for her, the food sucked. Judging by the delicious smell coming from the kitchen, Jane's cooking skills are good. She actually is a little hungry by the time dinner is ready.

They eat in comfortable silence, apart from Jane occasionally praising the vegetables she excludes from her meal.

"When did you know that I'm pregnant?" She asks when she is finished and he starts eating the leftover greens from her plate.

"I knew for sure today when you let me drive, I had a strong suspicion when you puked and I got initially irritated when you first switched your morning coffee for chocolate milk."

"Not even I knew then what was going on with me, I just didn't like the taste of coffee that morning."

"Well, let's hope that our kid inherits my quick wit." He teases her.

"Geez, I hope not. I'm not sure I can stand two of your kind."

"I think you just forfeited your chance to have chocolate pudding for dessert."

Of course he doesn't have the heart to actually withhold her dessert from her, she doesn't even need to beg. He begins clearing the table while she still spoons her pudding, silencing her protests when she insists on doing it herself later. When he's done putting the dishes in the dishwasher and gets back to her, she is asleep, her hand still clutching the spoon.

"Am I such boring company?" He softly whispers in her ear.

"Sorry. I am just always tired lately." She murmurs, not even raising her head from the table.

"I'll leave now that you can go to bed."

She pleasurably stretches her body and gets up to walk him out.

"Any idea what you might be craving for dinner tomorrow?" He asks when they stand at the door.

"Jane, you don't have to..."

"Yes, I do. It's my task as a _friend_ and _parent_ to make sure that you and the kid are well provided for." He brings a finger up to her lips - not to silence her, as she first suspects, but to remove a rest of chocolate pudding from them.

"Oh, by the way..." He says, licking the dessert from his finger. "Not bad that stuff. Anyway, when I got back to the office this afternoon, Cho and Rigsby were caught up in an argument if you or if you not had a boob job done and Van Pelt tried her best to pretend she didn't hear them."

"Yeah, right." Teresa snorts at the idea of her two co-workers discussing her body features.

"It's true. Most men won't recognize your belly looking more pregnant day by day, breasts getting bigger is another matter though. If you know a straight man that claims he is not fascinated with breasts, you know a man who is lying."

"First of all, my breasts are barely bigger than before the pregnancy." She dismisses his statement, her cheeks inevitably a deep shade of pink.

"Big enough to catch Cho and Rigsby's attention." He nods, a huge boyish grin hidden somewhere behind the surface of his serious expression, ready to be exposed any second.

"And secondly, Cho and Rigsby had no such discussion. You made that up to make me insecure enough to announce my pregnancy rather sooner than later."

"Does it work?"

"Maybe."

"You should tell them. Not because you work with them, but because friends should know stuff like that about another friend."

He has a point there. They _are_ more than co-workers to her. "I will. Soon."

"Good night, Teresa." To her surprise, he gives her a peck on the cheek and then haunches down to be on eye level with her stomach. "Good night, baby."

Straightening up, he winks at her and light-footed walks toward the stairs, whistling 'Maybe Baby' all the way down.

She still marvels at his behavior when he's long gone. It isn't really a surprise that he is adapting to their new life situation so fast, much faster than she is able to. The intensity of his devotion and the extend of his interest in her life are unexpected though. She isn't really sure if she can cope with his enthusiastic, protective behavior in the long run, but right now it's reassuring to know him at her side during this incredible, scary adventure.

He'll inevitably be a part of her future now, forever. As the father of her child and if she's lucky also as her friend. And that's all she wants him to be, doesn't she?


	4. Confessions

Today is the day, Teresa decides while blow-drying her hair.

All of a sudden she feels ready to let the world know that she'll be a mother in a little more than 6 months. So far, she had no desire to share the news with other people than Jane and her brothers, but today her opinion on the matter is a different one.

Maybe it's because for the first time in weeks she doesn't have the urge to gag when brushing her teeth. Or it's because she, instead of paleness, discovers some of that famous pregnancy glow when looking into the mirror, something she so far suspected to be an old wives' tale since the pregnancy made her look rather sick than radiant.

Another, probably more valid, reason for her decision is the fact that her condition becomes more obvious each day. For a while already she has trouble to button up her pants. Today, when she finally succeeds, the button comes off. A safety pin isn't a durable solution, she really needs to go shopping for maternity wear after work.

But the first task of the day is to inform her team and Minelli about her pregnancy. Jane will be thrilled and she finally won't have to listen to his threats anymore to tell them himself since she is too coward.

She arrives at the office just in time. Lately she never gets there earlier than necessary, too precious is every minute she can spend sleeping. The others are already there, drinking coffee or tea and talking. They are still oblivious of her presence, so she takes some time to watch them from a distance.

Jane is the center of attention, no surprise there. He is completely in his element while entertaining the others with some kind of magic trick that apparently involves Rigsby's cup of coffee, a spoon and a lot of histrionics on Jane's part.

His tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, the same he wore yesterday, tell her that he drove directly to the office to spend the night when leaving her apartment after dinner. She feels a little guilty for not letting him sleep on her couch, like he wanted. But then again, setting boundaries in their arrangement is important. First it's her couch and next her bed and she remembers all too well how that worked out last time.

No, sticking to her predefined friends & parents routine is the best way to go. The changes in her life are overwhelming as they are, so there's no need to make things even more complicated by emotional turmoil. If only Jane wouldn't put her willpower to the test all the time by caring so selflessly for her and by being unable to keep his hands off her stomach whenever they're alone. Or by looking so cute with tousled hair, for that matter.

Luckily loud guffaw interrupts her train of thoughts before she can analyze their relationship (or the fascinating way some unruly curls fall into his eyes) any further.

Jane's trick seems to be a full success, seeing how smitten with amazement the other three look at him and beg him to reveal the secret. Riqsby even goes so far to check Jane's jacket pockets for hidden implements. Observing the four of them having fun together, she feels a pang of regret that soon she won't be a part of the team anymore. Sure, she might still be seeing them outside of work, but she knows she'll miss working with them. All of them.

There is Cho, her pathologically honest, reliable companion right from the day she got promoted head of his unit. His first words ever to her, delivered with a deadpan expression and accompanied by a firm handshake, were "I hope you're easier to work with than the last boss." She liked him instantly.

Rigsby reminds her of her younger brother, always ready to goof around and never without something to eat within reach. She knows though that there's more to him than being amusing. He's a good, diligent cop and always has a a pair of handcuffs or his honest opinion handy for her, depending on what the situation requires.

Van Pelt proved to be much stronger than Teresa initially thought and became a valuable member of the team. She is smart and her excitement for the job is infectious. And she is compassionate. Teresa knows that a lot of leaders frown upon that character trait as it can be hindering, but she thinks that Van Pelt does a pretty good job meanwhile balancing compassion and professionalism. She needs to tell her before leaving to never let another boss persuade her to discard this ability.

Well, and then there is Jane. She'll see him around most of them after the baby is born. As a colleague he is an annoying, self-opinionated guy who is subverting her authority on a daily basis. And still, she will miss their work dynamic, his unconventional and yet so stunningly effective methods of crime solving.

Looking up, she notices Jane smiling at her, apparently oblivious of the others talking to him. She is pretty sure that he knows exactly what she is thinking about.

"Morning, guys!" She calls out, leaving her hiding place to join her friends.

"Jane just put milk in Rigsby's coffee without actually having milk at hand." Van Pelt announces after the general morning greeting.

"Yeah, and he refuses to tell us how he did it." A pouting Rigsby adds.

"I have to abide by the magician's code of honor and keep my secrets well." Jane declares, causing everyone including Teresa, who didn't even really observe the trick and isn't keen on knowing how it works, to roll their eyes in exasperation.

Teresa decides to set her plan for this morning in motion before she chickens out. "Alright then, David Copperfield. Since you apparently have nothing more to say, you don't mind if I steal the spotlight from you for a minute, right?" She looks at him intently, a smile playing on her lips, hoping that he understands what she is about to do.

And he does, his broad grin leaves no doubt about that. "The stage is all yours, my dear."

"I have to announce something." She begins, feeling slightly nervous when she sees the same curious expression on three of her colleagues' faces. Jane is the only one who is highly amused by the situation. It's probably best _not_ to look at him when she wants to go through with this.

"I'll be on maternity leave for a while and afterwards I probably won't be able to come back to this department."

Her announcement is met with stunned silence, making her feel insecure like being back in school and having to read a paper in front of the whole class.

Does she really need to spell it out for them to get a more voluble reaction? And maybe a visual is helpful to illustrate her words. Holding open her jacket to reveal her pregnant belly, she tells them: "I'm pregnant."

Again she is met with silence, this time accompanied by incredulous looks and wide open mouths. Rigsby even stops chewing whatever food it is he's just munching.

"With a baby?" Rigsby blurts out after half an eternity, being the first to find his tongue.

A chuckle escapes Teresa's mouth. "No, with a three-headed elephant. Of course with a baby."

"I didn't even know you are dating anyone." Rigsby mumbles, but is immediately silenced by Van Pelt's elbow.

Before Teresa can say anything, Grace's arms are wrapped around her. "Wow! Congratulations! That's wonderful!" Then she moves away a little to study Teresa's face. "It is wonderful, right?"

"It is." Teresa confirms with a broad smile, feeling touched by the younger woman's joy.

Next in line to congratulate her is Cho. "Never thought of you as a mother before, but I'm sure you'll master the role easily." Coming from Cho, this means a lot to her. He hugs her as well and she has trouble not to cry.

The sight of Jane's grinning face in front of her stops her from becoming a sobbing bundle of hormones. His arms are spread out, inviting her into an embrace. He really has no reason to hug her, seeing that he already knows about her pregnancy for a couple of weeks now, but she gives in because they have an audience.

He holds her tight, much tighter than the others. And much longer as well. "I'm glad you finally let the cat out of the bag, I'm proud of you." He whispers in her ear. "Maybe you should add _who_ got you pregnant." When he finally lets go, she is flustered because of his words and maybe the closeness of his body to hers is partly to blame as well.

Rigsby seems a little unsure how to react to the news and maybe also to her red cheeks. But, following his co-workers' example, he gives her a quick, clumsy hug. "Good luck with the little rascal. It will be weird not having you around here."

"Yeah." The others chime in and a wave of sadness washes over everyone.

"Guys, I'm not leaving immediately. No need to get all sentimental already." Teresa tells them with a forced smile to lift the spirits again.

"You need to come visit. With the baby." Van Pelt demands. "Do you already know if you're having a boy or girl? No? Well, if you'll have a girl - my cousin just had a baby girl, I'm sure you can have some cute clothes from her when she's grown out of them."

"I'll come back to that offer."

"We can throw you a baby shower! You have to make a list of things you need!" Van Pelt is really on a roll. Teresa expected her to be the most enthusiastic about the news, but she wasn't prepared for _this_. It's pretty sweet though, actually.

"Count me in. But I'm not wearing a stupid hat." Cho remarks.

"You don't wear hats at baby showers." Grace reassures him.

"Yeah, count me in, too." Rigsby tells Van Pelt, obviously more for the purpose to show his support for any of her ideas than for excitement about such an event.

"Does Minelli already know?" Jane, who was suspiciously silent after hugging her, inquires.

"Does Minelli know what?" Everyone winces, startled by the deep voice of their supervisor.

"Ehm, sir, I guess we better discuss this inside your office." Teresa tells her boss.

Minelli glares at Jane from the other side of the room, who in defence raises his hands, and then starts walking in the direction of his office.

"Good luck." Jane whispers and quickly squeezes her hand when Teresa passes him, and she is thankful for the demonstration of sympathy.

"What stupid stunt did Jane pull this time? " Minelli asks right after she closes the door.

For a moment she is at a loss of words. When Minelli turns around with an impatient look, she manages to blurt out that she's pregnant, secretly wondering if getting her pregnant despite using condoms counts as a stupid stunt in Minelli's eyes.

"Well, I guess Jane can't be held accountable for _that_ , huh?" Luckily Minelli has turned his back on her again, so he doesn't see her blush. And she is relieved that he stops her from answering with a wave of his hand when he sits down behind his desk.

"So, pregnant. I wouldn't really have expected to hear that from you of all people." He states, making her feel like a pregnant teenager who disappointed her daddy.

"Sorry, sir." Nervously fidgeting with her hands, she hopes that she can leave his office soon and go back to her more friendly co-workers outside.

"Nah, don't be. I'm sure you'll excel in the baby stuff just as much as in your job. I just don't want to see your talent go to waste. You don't plan to become a housewife now, do you? Spending your days cleaning the house and changing diapers?"

"No, sir." She quickly reassures him.

"No, of course not. What are your plans? Workwise, I mean."

"Well, I want to stay on the job as long as possible, then take some time off and after a couple of months I can hopefully come back to work at the CBI. Not as a senior agent, of course..."

"No, of course not." Even though she knows that it isn't possible to keep her current position, she still feels disappointed when Minelli agrees so quickly. "How would you like my job instead?"

That is a turn of events she did not envisage, no matter how often she played this talk through in her mind. "Sir?"

"I know, it seems a little boring to sit around in a office most of the time, but you would be entitled to go out in the field as well, if that's what you want. Me, I hardly use the privilege. I get sunburnt so easily. What do you say?"

"I feel honored, sir, I do. But I don't think I want to work full-time when the kid is little."

"I don't work full-time, so the job is perfect for you."

"Yes, you do." She insists, puzzled by Minelli's behavior.

"Officially, yes. But actually working, no. You'll learn that the more you move up the food chain, the less you have to do because you have others doing it for you. When I recommend you as my successor, I can with clear conscience also recommend to turn my position into a part-time one. They won't let a chance slide that allows them to cut personnel costs. Will you think about it?"

"Definitely, sir. I don't know what to say."

"Think about it and then take the offer, that will be enough. And let me know when exactly you want to come back to work and how many hours you want to work, so I can plan my departure."

Minelli gets up to shake her hand, but Teresa puts her arms around the stunned man. She's usually not eager to initiate an embrace, but a situation like this just calls for a hug. "Thank you, sir."

"Ehm, you're welcome." He tells her when she finally lets go of him. "By the way, do you think Cho is ready to become senior agent?"

"Absolutely." There is no doubt in her mind about that.

"Good. That's all for now."

She is already at the door when he calls her back.

"I don't want the office to go all gaga and engage in endless talking about babies and baby names and baby clothes and all other things baby. And once your offspring is born and you come to visit, no public breast feeding at any time as long as I'm here." He instructs her, the small smile on his lips betraying his harsh words.

"Understood, sir."

"Lisbon?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever need an ersatz grandpa..." She always knew that Minelli is tough on the outside, but a softie at heart.

"I'll know where to find the best in town." She tells him with a smile and winks at him before leaving his office.

She is surprised to find Jane outside, leaning against the wall and obviously waiting for her. "How did it go?"

"Pretty good, actually."

"Care to share?"

"He pretty much begged me to take his job when I get back to work. I've never heard of part-time supervisors, but I have no doubt that he'll accomplish to create a job like that for me."

"Huh." His smile falters a little, only noticeable for someone who knows him well.

"What?"

"You'll still be my boss then. My uber-boss even?"

"Yeah. Does that trouble you?"

"I was just hoping..." He begins, looking down when she motions him to go on. "Never mind."

"Will you get his office?" He asks, suddenly appearing very cheerful again.

"I guess. Why?"

"He has a great couch in there. Will you let me nap inside your new office? Or, better: Will you let me and the baby nap on that couch? When you're supervisor, there's nothing that stops us from taking him to work with us."

Typical. Planning to let her do the work while he and the baby relax. "And what exactly do you plan to do with _her_ when we'll need to go out in the field?"

"Meh, don't be such a killjoy. We'll think of something."

Across the room, she watches the other chatting, probably still about the news she gave them earlier.

"They took it pretty well, didn't they?" She asks Jane with a nod in their friends' direction.

"I told you they would. Grace is over the moon. According to her, babies are the greatest thing in the world. If she had wool and knitting needles in her desk, she'd be busy making a whole outfit for the baby right now. Cho told stories about the tree house he recently built with his nephews. I'm telling you, he's top babysitter material."

That side of Cho is new to her. "Who would have thought."

"Rigsby is a little freaked out by the baby talk and especially Grace's enthusiasm about babies. We need to thrust little Patrick or little Teresa into his hands at some point to help him overcome his baby phobia." The mental image of a scared Rigsby with a baby in his arms makes her laugh.

"I am pretty relieved now that it's out." She lets him know, getting serious again.

"Not so fast, you're not finished yet. You didn't announce my fatherhood yet."

No way, that's not part of her plan for today. "Don't you think they got surprised enough for one day?"

"That's a petty excuse. You're only too embarrassed to tell them that you slept with me."

"I'm not." He intently looks at her and she feels her cheeks starting to burn. "I'm not." She repeats firmly, even though she is a little bit embarrassed at the thought of mentioning that part of her love life to the others.

"If you think it's so easy, why don't _you_ tell them?" She challenges him in an attempt to distract him.

"Okay." Damn. She should have known that this would backfire.

"No, wait!" She grabs his arm before he can run off. "I'll tell them, but not just yet. Let's keep it our little secret a while longer."

"Wishing that you rather got pregnant by someone they don't know?"

"Stop it, that's not fair. I'm looking forward to this specific baby and I wouldn't want to change a thing about it."

"I'm glad you feel that way." He tells her, looking her straight in the eye and making her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "Because I would go crazy if you had this specific baby with someone else."

How is a woman supposed to react to a confession like that? Should she be happy? Irritated? She really doesn't know how to respond to this. And maybe he only wanted her to know and doesn't expect her to say anything, as he continues to talk after a few seconds of silence. "However, I would be even more glad if you'd let me officially be the father."

"I want you to be. Really, I do." It's the truth and she hopes he believes her. "I just need a little more time to overcome my refusal to spread out my private life in public. Please?"

He contemplates this for a while before giving in. "Okay, I trust you. Just make sure to tell them before the baby is born. Otherwise I'll be forced to pin the birth certificate to the bulletin board right next to the main entrance."

"Ooh, now I'm scared."

"You don't want everyone in this building to find out that your middle name is Bluebell, do you?"

She flinches at the mention of the hated name, finding it very unnerving that Jane really knows _everything_. Since she fails to come up with a clever retort, she is left to watch him disappear in Minelli's office, wondering what he's up to now.

Taking the blame for knocking up one of Minelli's best agents? Nah, hardly. Knowing Jane, he's probably getting on Minelli's nerves right now to allow him probational couch napping.


	5. Four Forkfuls

Teresa settles down on her couch with a container of ice cream in her lap, looking forward to a nice quiet evening. _Without_ Jane, for once.

She feels so overprotected most of the time that some alone time is a welcome change. So welcome, that tonight she's determined to allow herself the luxury to do whatever she wants to do and to eat whatever she wants to eat. Therefore, she switched vegetables for fruits. Given, there probably aren't many real fruits in her ice cream, but today she doesn't care.

At work she has Van Pelt asking her hourly how she feels, Cho telling suspects to be less rude considering her physical condition and Rigsby refusing to let her handcuff, let alone hunt down, anyone. Whenever she tells them to stop it, they nod and promise to let her just do her job, only to behave just the same next time. She is touched by their concern, but it's just a little too much sometimes.

And then there's Jane. Lately it seems as if she spends 99,9 % of her time with him. No, it not only seems that way. He actually _is_ around most of the time. At work or at her apartment, cooking for her and doing a million other things to make her life easier. He accompanies her to her doctor's appointments and when she's out shopping for baby stuff or groceries. The only time for herself she has at night (and that hardly counts as she's sleeping then) and when she has to go to the bathroom. Although, even in the bathroom he's at her side occasionally, holding her hair away from her face when she has to puke.

She's not complaining that he cares, it feels nice that he's already there for her before she gives birth to his baby. He is entertaining company and a gifted foot masseur and he helps her to eat healthy stuff. At times she catches herself thinking that she's lucky she chose him as the father of her child. Well, not exactly chose as the pregnancy wasn't planned, but still.

It's only, she sometimes _needs_ be left alone, a fact that Jane has trouble comprehending. She gave him subtle hints a few times, but to no avail. She always was rather a loner, enjoying it more to spend her time off alone than seeking company. It's a huge step for her to allow Jane to spend so much time with her at all. He, however, seems to think that being pregnant with his kid entitles him to share every aspect of her life.

Sometimes she catches him analyzing her behavior, sensing that he waits for her to change her mind about having a relationship with him. He mentioned more than once what he wants, never directly but clear enough for her to understand. So far her response to his advances is feigning ignorance. Maybe it's his plan to be around a lot, so she'll miss him enough when he's not to give them a second chance.

To be honest, Teresa does occasionally contemplate this possibility. It's not an unreasonable wish that Jane has. The reasons she gave him for ending their affair hardly apply anymore since they are having a baby together and will be connected anyway one way or another. There are still the reasons she didn't tell him though, the reasons that she isn't even able to put in words as they are more a mere gut feeling than anything else. It's that same intangible, conflicted feeling of fear that now keeps her from fully enjoying spending time with Jane.

She wants to overcome her fears, for the sake of her baby and for herself, but it's a slow process and she needs more time. Alone time, to be precise.

So today she bribed (or rather ordered) Cho and Rigsby to take Jane out for a boys night in town. She feels a little bad for being so sneaky, but she prefers this to picking a fight with Jane, which she is sure would inevitably happen if she told him to leave her alone for a while.

Satisfied with this solution she opens the container to indulge herself. She loads up a spoon with the cold delicacy and then slowly licks the ice cream off it. Her taste buds savor the unexpected treat after weeks of abstinence and she moans with delight. Just as she enjoys her second spoonful of heavenly deliciousness, there's a knock on her door.

Warily she gets up, clutching the container of ice cream tightly as if she's afraid someone might take it from her. Well, if the person who just knocked is who she thinks it is, it's not that absurd a thought. It can't be him, can it?

"Jane?" It can. "Aren't you supposed to be with Cho and Rigsby tonight?"

"I was, but they're going to a strip club now and I'm not in the mood for that. Dinner was nice though and I thought I'd bring you some restaurant food instead of boring you with home-cooked stuff every evening. It's really good." He walks past her to the kitchen and sets down the various boxes with food. "Can you stomach chicken again meanwhile? Because you have to try this chicken stew, it's heavenly." She makes a face. "No worries, if you don't want it, I'll eat it."

She watches him, rumbling around in her cabinets as if he's at home here and babbling about food. She should be mad at him for ruining her free evening, but she can't. It's too adorable how excited he is about some chicken stew. And, how could she kick a guy out of her apartment who prefers the company of a pregnant woman instead of going out to gawk at naked, slender girls?

She sighs and puts the ice cream back into the refrigerator, determined to have a serious talk about privacy and alone time with him soon, but to let the matter rest for tonight.

The food is tasty and far more nutritious than that ice cream, no doubt about that, but she finds it hard to eat much of it. Resolutely she pushes her plate away.

"You can't be sated already. Here, have some green peas, they're good for you."

"I can't. I want ice cream." She pouts like a four-year-old.

"Let's make a deal." He suggests with a grin. "Four forkfuls of peas and you can have some ice cream for dessert."

"Is that how you want to raise your kid? Blackmail?" She asks, eying him sullenly.

"I'm not sure yet. I have to test if it works on the kid's mother first. Does it work?"

Grudgingly she grabs her fork, ignoring the triumphant grin on his face. The craving for ice cream is too strong to waste time arguing about peas.

"If I wouldn't look after you, you'd subsist merely on chocolate and ice cream, huh?" It doesn't sound reproachful, rather tender and loving like teasing her with an adorable quirk.

"Maybe I should move in here to keep an eye on you." Nearly dropping her fork, she looks up. The expression on his face indicates that he's only half joking. In fact, he looks like someone who hides something dead serious behind a joke, for fear to get rejected.

"Jane..."

"Patrick." He smilingly corrects her.

"What?"

"I don't mind that you continued calling me 'Jane' after we slept with each other. Or _while_ we slept with each other." He raises his eyebrows and she blushes in response. "But we're having a kid together. If that doesn't put us on a first name basis, then I don't know what does."

"Patrick." She says, testing the unfamiliar word on her tongue. "I know that you're concerned for my well-being and even more so the baby's, but moving in with me is not an option."

"Why not?"

"I need some time alone sometimes."

"You won't have much time for yourself once the baby is born."

"Exactly, that's why I need it now. You're here a lot already and that's okay, but you can't be here all the time."

"Why not? It does make perfect sense." He reasons. "Two adults, living together and preparing for the arrival of their baby."

"It would make sense if we were a couple, but we're not." She says cautiously.

"Why is that anyway?"

She hesitates, taken aback by what sounds very much like an accusation. "Can we just drop this? I really don't want to argue."

"Then don't. Let me live with you." He demands, with an air of waning patience.

"I can't."

"Why not? What is so bad about wanting to spend more time with you?"

"Sometimes it feels like you're suffocating me. It's all too much."

For a while he is silent, clearly shaken by her words. When he finally speaks, his voice is absolutely steady and calm, but the muscles in his jaw are taut with anguish. "Is that why you broke up with me?"

"I didn't break up with you, we decided..." She starts to defend herself, but he cuts her short.

" _We_ didn't decide anything. _You_ gave me some crappy nonsense about separating work and private life and you being my superior and how things could never work out between us. That it would be better to just be friends."

"And you agreed."

"I did not. I went along with it after I failed to change your mind. In fact, I think we are great together, but I thought it was best to give you the space you apparently needed, thinking that after a while you'd realize you made a mistake."

"Patrick." She tries not to sound as dismayed as she feels."We had sex three times, that hardly even counts as a relationship. It was better to end it before things got too serious."

"It was not, not for me."

"We were both lonely. You were so devastated after Red John killed himself in front of your eyes before you could and I was pretty shaken too after the horrible murder of those two children. We both needed some comfort. Spending time together helped us get through a rough time, but that's it. Nothing more and nothing less." Liar. But it's better this way, she tells herself.

"That might be right about the first night. What about the others? What about the night you invited me over for dinner. And don't tell me that you only called me because you were horny, we didn't even have sex that night. Why did you want to spend the night sleeping in my arms when you don't like spending time with me?"

Not being used to talk about her feelings or to defend the motives behind her actions, she doesn't know how to respond to this. In the end, she remains silent, biting her lip to stop herself from crying.

"I'm an idiot, believing that you would actually consider having a serious relationship with me." He scoffs, a very real irateness noticeable in his tone. "You know what I think? I think it's not so much that you don't want to be with me, but you're so scared by the idea of not controlling every aspect of your life that you're unable to commit."

"Says the man who still wears a wedding band from a marriage that ended years ago!" She shouts, hurling defiance, in an attempt to hurt him as much as his words hurt her.

She regrets her outburst the second she sees his devastated expression. When he collects his car keys from the counter and leaves the kitchen, she is disgusted with herself.

"I'm so sorry." She pleads, following him to the door. "I didn't mean to say that, I was just so angry."

He looks at her for half an eternity and she squirms under his scrutinizing eyes. She feels more antsy the longer he remains silent.

"When the baby is born, do you want me to be a visitor to your home instead of being a father to our kid?" He asks, trying his best to keep his voice under strict control. His face looks harsh in the shadowy light of the hallway. "What do you want, Teresa?"

She wants him to stay. She wants him to leave her alone. She wants to kiss him. She wants to punch him for making everything so damn complicated.

"I don't know what I want." She finally whispers dejectedly.

He turns away and leaves her apartment without looking back at her. "You better find out."

"Jane... Patrick..." She almost calls after him that she's pretty sure she loves him, but needs more time to come to terms with herself. Almost. But then she clenches her teeth over the words, because some things she is just too scared to say out loud. Angry with him, but even more with herself, she slams the door shut.

Refusing to think about the argument she just had with the father of her baby, she frantically begins to clear the table and clean the kitchen. When she finally settles down on the couch, with her trusty container of ice cream as a consolation, she tries to distract herself with watching TV and fails when all she can see is Patrick's devastated expression. Knowing that she needs to face her problems eventually, she turns the TV off and starts to think.

It was never about his ring. She knows that the rings doesn't pose a threat or means that he's unable to move on. Not anymore. One night, laying in her bed, he told her that the ring is his reminder to be good to the people he loves and to always be there for them. She realizes that, after losing his wife and child, it actually makes sense that he is so overprotective with her.

His past makes him damaged goods, but so is she. If he, after all he suffered, is ready to take a chance on a new start, why can't she? He is right, it is her fault that things between them are so weird. She wonders what exactly she is so afraid of. Is it really the fear to lose control? Or the fear of not being able to live up to his expectations?

Her thoughts go back to the morning she ended things between them. He was standing in her kitchen when she woke up, making breakfast and looking like he belonged there. It was the third night they had slept together and the fifth he had spend in her apartment, but this morning was the first they didn't have to rush to work as they had the day off.

When he discovered her standing in the doorway he came over to kiss her and her whole body tensed up. When he started making plans for the day and talking about going on vacation together and starting over, she felt sheer panic rise inside of her. She knew that she didn't want to lose him completely, but also that she couldn't give him what he wanted.

Knowing herself, she was more likely than him to screw this up and she really didn't want to have to go through a nasty breakup with him. And she even less wanted him to be disappointed with her. So pushing him away and just being friends was a good, solid plan to prevent any irreparable damage to their relationship. There were two things that she didn't count in though: Getting pregnant and the fact that she hurt his feelings anyway.

"Your mommy is an idiot." She tells her baby, stroking her stomach, and her offspring shows no sign of objection.


	6. Compromises

Heaving a deep sigh, Teresa puts her elbows on the windowsill and places her head in her hands to watch the incipient rain turn the world outside into a wet, desolate mess. It's not the weather though that is responsible for her bad mood on this early Tuesday evening. Her apartment is silent and she is alone. No matter how often she tells herself that this is exactly what she wanted, it doesn't feel more right to be here on her own.

Five days passed since her fight with Patrick. It's the fifth evening in a row that she is alone with her racing thoughts. She tried to enjoy her alone time and did all the things she didn't when he was with her, like taking long baths or crying uncontrollably while watching some trivial chick flicks. Nothing was really enjoyable though and she now reached the point to know that she can't go on like this much longer. If she is completely honest with herself, she has to admit that she misses Patrick terribly. She misses his smile. She even misses his lectures about the nutritious value of vegetables, that's how bad it is. She definitely wants him back in her life.

If she could just walk up to him, kiss him and tell him she wants to be with him, things would be easier. But she's not ready yet for a serious commitment like this. The issues she still has to work out are too tangled to be resolved within five days. She came to the conclusion though that she wants to try and she knows she needs him to guide her through this.

Two days ago a plan began to form in her mind, a solution for their discrepancies. It will be a huge step for her, but it's a compromise that will allow him to play a more significant role and give her the chance to slowly get used to the idea of building a life together with him. Now she only has to find a way to talk to him. Real talking instead of the polite small talk he seems to prefer since their argument.

She knows that he still cares, because, even though he wasn't inside her apartment after the fight, he still provides her with dinner. Now he puts it in the fridge at work, in a container with her name on it, and reminds her to take it home when she leaves for the day. Apparently he doesn't trust her to prepare a somewhat healthy dinner herself, but he trusts her enough to believe she eats the food he gives her. And she does eat it, even the vegetables. That's the least she can do for him.

Whenever she thanked him for dinner in the last days, she tried to get him to talk to her about more than food, but every time he was evasive and she understood that she must have hurt him even more than she initially thought. Today, when she left work, she got scared that he gave up on her. He was already gone when she exited her office and there was no box with her name on it in the fridge, no symbol to let her know that there is still hope for them. Then, when she arrived at her car, she found a note under her windshield wiper with the words:

_'I didn't feel like cooking. Try not to eat too many disgusting things tonight. P.'_

So she resisted the urge to grab a burger on her way home and is now in her kitchen, snipping carrots and zucchinis and sugar peas and wondering what Patrick is doing in this very moment.

While peeling potatoes, she thinks of the only time in the last five days when he shed his polite, but distant behavior. He accompanied her to an ultrasound appointment and their baby was very active that day, making it hard for the doctor to measure it or even to get a clear picture. They both marveled at their little miracle on the screen, commenting on each move and sharing laughter when their kid seemed to wave at them.

Later in the car, when he drove her home, they continued talking about the baby and when they reached her house he placed his head on her stomach and tenderly wished his kid good night. The intimacy of this gesture was unexpected after several days of not touching her at all, but not unwelcome. Looking down at him, she felt the urge to bury her hand in his hair and stroke the soft curls, but she bit her lip to suppress the idea.

Maybe she should have given in. Maybe that would have been a start to heal the cracks in their relationship. Instead of touching him, she asked him to join her for dinner, but, without even given her an excuse, he declined. When she watched him drive away, feeling totally numb, she wondered what it would take to make him forgive her.

Now, two days later, she isn't one step closer to an answer. Tonight, she picked up the phone several times to call him, but then she got cold feet before he even answered. She already apologized to him. Three times. He seemed to accept it, but his stoic behavior stayed the same and discouraged her to initiate a talk about their problems.

Sighing deeply she stands up from her chair to get a pot for the vegetables, but an unfamiliar twitching in her underbelly causes her to sit down again. She needs a moment to realize that it is her baby who evokes the strange feeling inside of her. For a couple of weeks already she occasionally felt a vague flutter or experienced bubbling motions, but this is different.

Teresa places both hands on her stomach and softly strokes it, hoping to inspire her baby to repeat the sensation. A minute passes, then two more. Finally, she feels a slight, tickling movement - not quite a kick, but definitely a poke - under her right palm. And then another one.

Her baby is moving and it's the most incredible feeling in the world. She sits there in awe, waiting for another contact and is full of sheer joy when her baby decides to play with her a while longer. Pulling up her shirt, she checks if the activities inside her belly show on the outside. She is stunned when she actually makes out a faint ripple in the spot where she feels the next poke.

It's an overwhelming event, a big milestone in her pregnancy, and she catches herself wishing that someone would experience this amazing moment with her. No, not someone. The only person who'd be as much touched by this as she is. Maybe her baby isn't just poking her for fun, but to give her an excuse to call Patrick. Before she can change her mind, she reaches for the phone.

"What happened?" He asks anxiously, apparently assuming she would only call him in a crisis.

"The baby is fine." She quickly reassures him, before he can envision too many horror scenarios. "In fact, the baby is great. And very active."

"Active?"

"Yes, it just pokes my hand as we speak."

"You can feel the baby move? Wow." He states in this tender, loving voice of his that he usually reserves for talking to their baby inside her belly.

"Yeah, wow. It's such an amazing feeling. You know, I was afraid I might not even notice the baby moving until much later. I had no idea it would be that intense and it just makes the pregnancy so much more real."

"Scary, huh?"

"A little, but it's also wonderful. I just..." She sobs, not able to continue due to the tears that suddenly and involuntarily begin to form in her eyes.

"Are you crying? Teresa, are you okay?" She is relieved to discover that he not only worries about the baby, but also about her.

"I just wish you had been here when it first happened." She blurts out, before her cowardice can get the better of her as so often. Her words are probably closer to admitting that he means a lot to her than anything she ever told him before.

He is silent for a moment, as if to consider how to react to her confession. "I would have liked that."

"I'm so sorry for ruining everything." She tells him, still overwhelmed with emotions.

"I know that you're sorry. Please stop crying. I can deal with you yelling at me, but I feel really helpless when you cry. Especially since I'm not with you and can feed you with chocolate to comfort you." He is teasing her? That's the last thing she expected. It stuns her into silence, but at least it helps to stop the stream of tears.

"Teresa? Did you call to talk about us?" He asks very gently. "I know I wasn't exactly amiable the last days, but I'm ready to have this talk now."

This is her cue and she decides to take the offer. Talking about it on the phone might also be easier than being face to face with him. "I hate how things have been the last five days. I feel really miserable. Can you please give me a chance to make this right?"

"Sure, I'm willing to have peace negotiations with you." The tone of his voice tells her that he is smiling and she is encouraged enough by the mental image of his friendly face to go on.

"Okay, first of all, I want you to know that I'm thankful how much you care for me. Also, it's really sweet that you cook for me all the time. But can we make a deal that you also let me cook dinner once in a while? Or we can cook together, maybe. I'm only pregnant, not invalid, and I don't want you to do all the work alone."

"So you plan to resume our dinner routine?"

"I do. On the proposed terms. Otherwise I'll refuse to eat any more greens." She threatens jokingly.

"Accepted. You're a tough negotiating partner, my dear."

Hearing him talk to her like that, in his normal, teasing manner, makes her lips curve into a smile and increases her self-confidence. "Now on to more important matters. You asked me what I want, and I've been thinking about that a lot. I definitely don't want you to be absent when amazing things like today happen."

"But I guess you still don't want me to live with you either." He interrupts her.

"Patience, I'll get there. I realized that, when the baby is born, I don't want you to be one of those fathers who only picks up his kid every other weekend. So, I actually considered the idea of moving in together with you and..."

"I can be with you in half an hour, let me just pack some stuff." He exclaims excitedly.

"Patrick!" She calls before he can hang up on her. "Really, I'm flattered how excited you are about sharing my tiny apartment with me, but will you please hear me out? That's not easy for me."

"Fine, I'm listening."

"Okay, I don't think my apartment is big enough for two adults and a baby."

"I don't think my house is a good idea. I mean..."

"No, that's not what I meant." She hurries to add. "I think we should look for a bigger apartment."

"You do?" He asks, apparently as incredulous as she was when she first realized that she was warming up to the idea of living with him.

"Yes. One with enough space so that we can both have our own room and one room for the baby and maybe a guest room in case my brothers or someone from your family comes to visit."

"Like an apartment-sharing community for parents?" His voice indicates that he's not very thrilled about the idea.

"Kind of. For starters. That way we can get used to living together and maybe after a while, if things go well, we can... ehm..." Her voice trails off, unsure how to continue her sentence without making a total fool of herself.

"We can what?" He inquires, his teasing tone leaving no doubt that he knows exactly what she means.

"Look, as you pointed out yourself, I have some major commitment issues and I'm just scared that things between us won't work out." She tells him after regaining her composure. "I'll need more time to sort this out, but I really want to try to change. This new living arrangement, that I suggest, is a first step into this direction. I just need you to be patient for a while."

"I can be patient. I shouldn't have pushed you the other day, but I wanted you to acknowledge that my feelings for you won't go away if you only pretend long enough that they don't exist." Wow. She should have known that he'd be as blunt as always, even during a talk like this one.

"You did nothing wrong, your words finally got me thinking and... " She inhales deeply, wondering if she'll ever be able to voice her feelings frankly. "I need you to know that I intend to eventually arrive on the same page with you."

"You mean the page when we won't need separate rooms anymore?" He translates and his cheeky voice causes her to roll her eyes. "Hey, no need to roll your eyes. I just wanted to make sure my patience will be rewarded in the end."

"It will." She tells him, wondering why she blushes even though she's only talking with him on the phone, and quickly brings the conversation round to a less awkward topic. "Now, do you want to look for this new apartment with me or not?"

"I want to. You plan to make up your mind before our kid goes to college, right?"

"Yes, I'm actually aiming for the foreseeable future."

"Good. Do you want me to arrange something for our apartment hunt?"

"No, I know a realtor. I'll call her tomorrow to check if they have any apartments for rent at the moment. I'm sure she can recommend someone else if they don't have anything suitable for us."

"Tomorrow already? You're really serious about this."

"I am." She confirms, without any hesitation "Ouch."

"What?" He asks in a very worried voice.

"The baby. This was definitely more a kick than a poke." She proudly strokes her stomach.

"Little Patrick already practices to become a world-class soccer player some day. Good kid, we'll live in luxury when we retire."

"Girls can play soccer, too."

"They can. But I think we'll have a boy."

"Did you see something during that ultrasound that I missed?" She asks, mildly irritated.

"No, he moved too fast. It's only a hunch, but you know my hunches are pretty accurate most of the time." She is pretty sure he is grinning smugly on the other end of the line.

"If it is a boy, and I'm not saying that I even remotely believe that you're able to predict a baby's sex, you wouldn't really want to name him Patrick, right?"

"Why not? It's a nice strong, masculine name." He defends his given name.

"Probably, but it's your name. I'd end up calling our son Junior or Paddy to distinguish between him and you and I don't like that. I'm willing to accept Patrick as the middle name."

"Deal. What was your fathers name?"

"Gerald."

They are both silent, trying to figure out if this name would suit their baby.

"Nah." They finally both exclaim at the same time and break out laughing afterwards.

"What about your father?" She asks, eager to learn more about his family. They hardly ever talked about his parents before.

"Patrick."

"Are you serious? So that would make our son Patrick the third? I'm glad I already objected."

"The fourth, actually. My grandfather's name was Patrick as well."

"The Janes aren't very inventive, are they?" She teases him.

"I have to agree with you. Especially since my sister's name is Patricia, same as two of my aunts and my grandmother."

She wonders if naming his son after himself and his ancestors is important to him. "Are you okay with breaking the tradition? If not, I could deal with Patrick as the first name, you know."

"No, Patrick as a middle name is good enough. We'll find something better as the first name. If I'm wrong, which is very unlikely, how would you name our daughter?"

"I'd like to give her my mother's name, Katherine, as the middle name." She stifles the familiar, after all the years subtle, feeling of grief, but is surprised when it still lingers in her voice.

"I like the name Katherine." He tells her softly. "We can always use it as the first name if we can't think of anything else."

"I guess." She agrees, touched by his empathy. "You know what? We made pretty much progress today. We decided to get an apartment together and agreed on the middle name of our baby. And, most impressive of all, I'm not freaking out yet at the very thought of getting an apartment with you."

He laughs. "Teresa?"

"Mmh?"

"I like talking to you very much. Really talking, I mean." He reveals, sounding dead serious all of a sudden.

"Me too. The last days were a nightmare." She can't think of anything else to add, but she also doesn't want to hang up yet. In fact, she really wants to see him.

"Hey, do you want to come over for dinner? I got a little distracted, so it's not ready yet. But the roast chicken is almost done, I only need to finish with the vegetables and make mashed potatoes. And maybe the baby will kick again while you're here and you can feel it." She stammers, adding the last sentence in case a warm meal and her company aren't incentive enough.

"Chicken, really?" She can tell that the thought of her eating chicken makes him grin.

"Yeah, I discovered two days ago that the poultry crisis is over. Another milestone you missed."

"Okay, I'll be with you as soon as possible. Do you want me to pick up some chocolate cake on the way for dessert?"

"Do you even have to ask? Can you please pick up some blueberries, too? I've been craving those all day."

"You crave fruits? I'm shocked." His laugh is contagious. "Okay, see you in a bit."

"Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"Do you own pajamas?"

He chuckles. "What kind of question is that?"

"Since I only ever saw you in suits or naked, a reasonable one."

"I have some of those, yes. Why?"

"Maybe you can bring one, so you don't have to drive home in the dark in this horrible weather. I can't promise that my couch is as comfortable as the one at work, but it's extendible."

"Extendible, really? Not much use for that in your tiny living room, is there?"

She feels the urge to playfully hit his arm, but that will have to wait until he's with her. "Oh, shut up. And hurry. I really need those blueberries."

And his company, she thinks, as she hangs up with a smile on her face.


	7. Five Boxes

_**Apartment #1**_

"It's a really nice place, don't you think? Patrick?"

"Are that mice droppings in the corner over there?"

"Looks like ordinary fluffs to me."

"I think it's mice droppings. You don't want our baby getting nightly visits from Mickey Mouse, do you?"

_**Apartment #2**_

"Hey, you can see the CBI building from this window."

"I know that you love your work, Teresa, but do you really want to see our workplace from the living room window?"

_**Apartment #3**_

"I really like this place. Look, it even has a fireplace! I love fireplaces."

"Who would have thought that the tough Agent Lisbon is such a romantic."

"Well, now you know. Can we just rent this place? Please?"

"It's nice. But those squeaking floorboards really get on my nerves."

"I'm sure this can be fixed."

"Maybe. I doubt it though. Once a squeaker, always a squeaker."

"You still want to move in together, right?" Teresa asks, eying Patrick suspiciously, while they wait for their sandwiches at a little sidewalk cafe near the third apartment.

They both took the day off (a 'coincidence' that most likely didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team, judging by the glances they exchanged) for apartment hunting and she is perplex that, contrary to her expectation, he and not she is the one to complicate matters.

"Of course, I do. What makes you think I changed my mind?" He asks, feigning innocence.

"Well, excuse me when the fact that you just rejected three perfectly fine apartments makes me a little nervous."

He flashes her an arch smile. "We'll find something else."

"Oh, really?" She asks sardonically. "Those were the only three affordable places with a suitable floor plan."

"Not exactly. There is another one."

"There is?"

"Yes. I found it in a newspaper ad and we can go there after lunch." He announces proudly, producing a key from his pocket.

She should have known that he's up to something the moment he offered his bogus excuse for not liking the first apartment. "What did you do? Flirt with the realtor until she gave you the key instead of meeting us at the apartment?"

"No need to be jealous." It's obvious that he's enjoying himself thoroughly. "It only took some compliments and mentioning that we have a baby on the way and she went all soft. I thought it's better if we can look around on our own. I've already been there briefly yesterday and I think you'll like it."

"Ah, so you only pretended to dislike the other apartments because you already decided for that one?" Unbelievable. And more unbelievable is that she's not mad at him for tricking her like that. "And, for the record, I was not jealous."

"Whatever you say, my dear. If you, against all odds, don't like this place, we can still take apartment #3."

"Having a look at it won't hurt, I guess." She concedes, involuntarily curious about this mysterious apartment he found.

"You will love it. I know, you will."

"We'll see."

An hour later, Teresa's car, with Patrick behind the wheel, enters a quiet side street. She is just contemplating if it's the pregnancy or them getting along so well lately that made her give in so easily to his request to drive, when he asks her to close her eyes.

"Oh, come on, this is stupid." She protests, although knowing that she will surrender eventually.

"Humor me, please. I want to see the look on your face when you first see it and I can't really focus on you while I drive."

"Fine." She sighs and closes her eyes, but pouts for good measure.

The car stops and he walks around to her side to help her out. Supporting her with his arm around her waist, he leads her a few steps forward.

"Now you can open your eyes." He tells her, still holding on to her.

At first she is confused, looking around to check if he maybe means another one than the building they stand in front of. She peers at him, but he only grins and nods.

"It's a house." She finally states incredulously.

"Yes."

"It's not an apartment."

"Nope."

"You want to rent a house?"

"Well, actually, it's not for rent. I want to sell my house and buy this one." He beams with joy.

"You want to sell your house." She repeats, too dumbfounded to form a coherent sentence with her own words.

"Yes. Or better, I already sold my house. I had to turn down two offers of creeps who only wanted it because of the Red John connection, but I now sold it to a law firm which wants to use it as offices. I like the idea of people working, but not living there."

She looks at him and helplessly shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know what to say."

"I realize that the house has a white fence around the front lawn and the neighborhood might seem a little bourgeois, but I think it's a nice environment to raise a kid. A lot of families with little kids live here and there's a playground and a preschool right around the corner. I know, it's a little scary to buy a house instead of renting a place. It makes our living arrangement much more permanent."

"That's not it."

"No?" He asks, looking her straight in the eye and giving her a tender, knowing smile.

"Okay, maybe a little." She admits. "But what really concerns me is something else. If I agree to buy this house, which I can only decide after I've been inside, I don't want you to pay for it alone. I want to acquire a financial interest."

"You want us to buy the house together?" Now it's his turn to be stunned.

"Yes. I don't want to live in your house, but ours. Makes it much more difficult for you to kick me out when I tease you about whistling musical tunes in the shower."

Being too busy digesting her willingness to buy a house with him, he completely ignores her quip. "You do realize that buying a house together makes parting more difficult if we don't get along?"

"Patrick, we are having a baby together. Joint property really isn't scary at all compared to that." She tells him and grabs the key from his hand to have a look at the interior of their potential new home.

Three weeks later the sales contract is signed, a bed for Patrick and other new furniture to fill the rooms of their new home are bought and delivered and a rental truck for moving their stuff is parked in front of Teresa's house.

She sits down on the rim of her bathtub, the very spot where she awaited the results of her first, second and fourth pregnancy test, taking a couple of minutes off from packing all her belongings in boxes. Wistfully she reminisces about moving in so many years ago. Now she will only spent one more night here before beginning a new life in a new house. And with a new cohabitant.

Patrick was right, she fell in love with the house from the moment she first entered it. The large, light rooms with their homey atmosphere exalted her imagination and, walking through the house, she already imagined all the rooms furnished and decorated. Of course she pretended, just for fun, that she didn't like the house at all, but Patrick didn't fall for it. Pointing out imaginary flaws of the building was apparently not very convincing since her face expressed rapturous delight.

She still can't quite comprehend how perfect the house is. The first floor consists of the generous kitchen, the dining room with a glazed partition to the hallway, a guest bedroom with en suite bathroom, another small room (which could be a study, she thinks) and a sitting room. The latter immediately became her favorite room of the house as it attracts a great deal of natural light and has direct access via sliding doors to the paved terrace and the small, but beautifully natural garden. Upstairs there are three bedrooms, one with an en suite bathroom, and a family bathroom. Teresa is sure she'll feel at home there in no time.

Hearing Patrick curse in her living room when he accidentally stumbles over some books on the floor that he himself piled up there, she can't help smiling. Not because of his mishap, but because she is really glad to have him here. And also because the last weeks were really great. They cooked together, went shopping for clothes and other stuff for the baby and for furniture and also did some more couply things, like watching DVDs or going out for a meal. They discovered that their taste in movies is quite different, but also that they - after some mocking and teasing - are always able to agree on one to watch together.

He spent some nights on her couch, but instinctively felt when she needed time for herself. She noticed some of his bad habits, like leaving his shoes in the middle of the living room at night so she nearly drips over them on her way to the bathroom, but she also learnt that she is able to tolerate them. Occasionally she was on the edge of panic when she thought about giving up her old life to built a family with Patrick, but then he did something utterly sweet and she felt reassured that she was doing the right thing.

At work things went pretty much back to normal once everyone got used to her pregnancy and stopped handling her with kid gloves. Meanwhile she understands that taking down suspects with a pregnant belly isn't very wise, so she mainly settles for briefing the team, questioning witnesses and suspects and paperwork. She found out that flinching and dramatically clutching her belly is a very effective method to make suspects more complaisant during interrogations and she uses this knowledge frequently, causing Patrick to tease her about him having a bad influence on her.

"Here you are hiding." Patrick interrupts her train of thoughts and sits down next to her. "Getting cold feet?"

"Only being a little sentimental." She points at the stained-glass window to their right. "I love this window, I'll miss it."

"It's a beautiful window." He softly replies, gently nudging her arm with his elbow. "If you want, I'll demount it and instal it at the new house. Your landlord won't like it, but I'll hazard the consequences if it makes you happy."

One of the things she loves about him is that he can cheer her up without even having to try very hard. "No, that's okay. Mr. Fisher is quite violent-tempered and I think I might still need you in the future."

They smile at each other for a while, quietly enjoying each other's company.

Patrick is the first to speak again. "Hey, look what I found. I knew you'd look good with short hair. How old were you there?"

She stares at the black and white photo in his hand. "Where did you get this?"

"It fell out of a book when I wanted to put it in a box. Something wrong?"

"That's not me. That's my mother." She finally tells him after a moment of silence, looking away.

"Really?" He examines the picture more closely. "You're the spitting image of her."

"I know. She had brown eyes, but other than that I see her face when I look into the mirror. I learned to appreciate that since this is the only picture I've got of her."

"How's that?" As so often, he finds the answer to his question in her eyes. "Oh. Your father?"

She nods. "One day, when I came home from school, he had made a huge bonfire in the backyard with all things that reminded him of my mother. He nearly set the house on fire, too. I was so angry with him that I didn't speak with him for a whole month. Not that he really noticed anyway. Over a year later, when I looked for a poem for a homework, I found the book. It was my mother's. Inside was this picture of her as a teenager, I think she used it as a bookmark. That was my happiest day since my mother died. I hid the book with the picture under my mattress until I went to college, always afraid my dad would find them and take them from me."

"And you still hide the picture now?" He cautiously inquires.

She shrugs, tears dwelling in her eyes. "It seemed the right thing to do. You know, I really miss my mother lately. I mean, I always do, but now especially. I'm thinking about her and my childhood a lot. As kids, my brothers and I were never home on time. For us a curfew at 6 meant that we'd begin to walk home at 6. My mom was so worried, even when we were only a couple of minutes late, but we only teased her about it. Each time she said 'Wait till you have kids yourself, then you'll understand.' It's just so damn unfair that she'll never be able to see that she was right."

He takes her hand in his, tenderly unclenching the fist she is making, and intertwines his fingers with hers. "I think we should find a frame for this picture and give it a place of honor in the new house."

Still holding her hand, he brushes her knuckles with his lips and she lets him, tentatively nodding in response to his suggestion. He is right, it's time to stop hiding her past.

"Teresa? Would you do me a favor?" He asks with a very serious expression.

Without hesitation, she agrees, wondering what he wants her to do.

"When we're done here, will you go with me to my house?"

"Didn't you say you're already done with packing your stuff?"

"I am, mostly. But I need you there for one final thing."

"Sure." Denying his request is not an option for her. If he needs her, she will go there with him. But still, the thought of entering his house for the first time without even knowing what he plans to do there, makes her a little uneasy.

"Thank you. I promise to make this quick." He squeezes her hand before letting go. "Wanna help me with those books? You can have an eye on the piles on the floor to make sure that I don't break any bones. I swear, they secretly move to another spot whenever I turn my back on them."

She is amazed how quickly he switches from seriousness to bantering, but she doesn't mind. Being with Patrick never becomes stale due to his versatility.

"I've got your back. Maybe I should get my gun, those lexica over there are loose cannons." She teases him and takes delight in the smirk she provokes. Looking through one of the piles on the floor, she finally spots what she was hoping to find.

"By the way, this is how _I_ looked as a teenager." She tells him, holding a yearbook out to him. "I'll be in the kitchen to make us a snack for lunch."

She hears him gasp when she leaves the room. "Teresa, is that a nose ring?" He yells after her. "Do you still own those fishnet stockings and this leather mini?"

Teresa laughs, realizing that opening up to others and sharing things that lie in her past with them isn't as bad as she thought it would be. She knows that Patrick will look through the whole yearbook and will have a blast teasing her about her appearance and her nerdy boyfriend Vernon.

"Hey, I really hope you don't plan to name our son Vernon." He exclaims, right on cue.

Still, she trusts him to keep certain things private and knowing that she is finally able to confide in someone again makes her happy.

It is afternoon when they arrive at Patrick's house. Teresa uncomfortably shifts in her seat, looking at the exterior of the building. That's as close to the house as she got before, waiting inside her car for him. She only knows the interior through crime scene photos, images of the tragic, bloody end of two lives. Of two people who the man at her side loved.

"Ready?" Patrick asks, nervous tension evident in his voice.

She nods, even though she is far from being sure that she is ready for this.

"You don't have to worry, the place looks nothing like that crime scene photos anymore." He tells her, as if reading her thoughts. "The house is pretty much empty. And I painted the walls. I also got finally rid of that smiley face."

"Finally?"

"I kept it for years." He admits. "I painted it over after Red John's end. Not right afterwards, but after spending the second night with you."

He studies her face and even though she is tempted to avoid his scrutinizing look, she senses that averting her eyes would hurt him. After a while he continues. "It was then that I realized I need to stop allowing Red John to control my life."

"And then I pushed you away." She mournfully remarks.

"That was a setback, but after making so much progress I decided to not give up yet." He looks down, playing with his wedding band. "Does it really bother you that I still wear the ring?" He asks in reference to the fight they had.

"I shouldn't have said that. I understand why you still wear it." She hurries to respond.

"I'll take it off when I need the finger for another ring." He smiles lightly and she crumbles when she looks into his blue eyes. One day, she thinks, she'll give him a reason to take it off.

They finally leave the car and he leads her into the house, granting her a glimpse at his past. The sound of their footsteps reverberates through the rooms and Teresa is taken aback by the overall emptiness. He told her that he already packed his stuff and she also knows that he doesn't want to take any furniture and already got rid of it. Still, it makes her strangely sad that all of Patrick's life - or better the part of his old life that he wants to take along - fits into five medium-sized boxes.

He walks up the stairs and she follows him, glancing through the open doors into the rooms they pass on the way. Teresa feels a little guilty for being relieved that on the surface nothing reminds of the horrible things that happened in this house. Upstairs they enter a room left of the staircase, with its parquet floor, white walls and big windows at first glance indistinguishable from all the others. Then she notices two boxes in one corner of the room and even though their contents are safely hidden under brown cardboard, she is suddenly sure that they are standing in the room of Patrick's daughter.

"This was Anna's... room." He confirms her suspicion, his voice breaking when he says his kid's name for the first time in years. "And this is all that's left of her." He adds, pointing at the boxes.

"Oh." Teresa breathes, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry. She squeezes his hand, a weak attempt to comfort him.

"What do you want me to do, Patrick?" She softly asks.

"I kept some of the stuff from her room after she..." He trails off, appearing more fragile than she ever saw him before. "I put the boxes in the attic and never opened them again in all those years. But now that I have to clear out the whole house I need to decide what to do with them. I don't want to... no, I _can't_ just get rid of them without at least having one last look at her things. I am just too afraid to open the boxes."

His shaken state makes her helpless, but she knows that she now has to be strong for both of them. "We can open them together."

It is obvious that it costs him quite an effort to make himself nod, but he follows her over to the boxes nonetheless.

"Which one first?" She asks, anxious to not proceed faster than he is ready for.

He picks the bigger one and she cautiously opens it. Patrick sits down next to the box and helps her to find a comfortable posture when she joins him on the floor. For a while they only look into the box at all the things inside, Patrick's facial expression constantly alternating between joyful recognition and poignant grief. Hesitantly he finally chooses one item to take out.

"Mr. Bear." He tells her with a faint smile, tracing the teddy's ears with his thumb.

"Patrick?" His eyes are tearful when he looks up to meet hers. "Tell me about Anna. I mean, you don't have to..."

"I want to." He interrupts her and Teresa remains silent to give him time to gather himself.

"My little girl was a whirlwind, always brimming over with life." He finally begins. "She was born almost a month premature and was always a little smaller than other kids her age, but she made up for that with personality. She always wanted to take part in everything. I painted a wall and she wouldn't stop begging until I gave her a brush and let her help me. She was most of the time running instead of walking and when I took her by the hand and dared to stop for a while, she impatiently hopped up and down. The only occasions when she was able to sit still was when her mother let her tinkle on the piano or when I read to her. She liked to hear stories about cats and about princesses. She loved to eat strawberries, but hated strawberry-flavored toothpaste. By the age of four she developed an irrational passion for flinging things from her shelves to the floor and then putting them back where they belonged. She loved to get up very early in the morning and walk around the house until we woke up and then she crawled into bed with us. She stunned me with a shockingly early mastery of sarcasm, sometimes making me speechless with her precocious remarks. She couldn't fall asleep without Mr. Bear in her arms, until she out of the blue dislodged him to spend the nights on the rack above her bed. I never got a chance to find out what Mr. Bear did to deserve a demotion like that."

Teresa slowly inches closer to his body and tenderly puts an arm around him. "And you miss her every single day." She whispers, her fingers soothingly stroking his neck.

His eyes are bleary when he looks up and nods.

"Were you happy about the baby right away?" He asks, confusing her with his sudden change of topic.

"After the initial shock, yes. I wasn't able though to really enjoy the pregnancy until you knew and didn't freak out about it."

"Believe me, I did freak out." His laugh sounds constrained. "I was only wise enough to not let it show in front of you."

"Were you scared to betray Anna?"

"When I first suspected that you're pregnant, I wanted nothing more than to be the father of this baby. When you confirmed it, I was over the moon that you weren't involved with someone else, but when I left your office I panicked. I never really considered the possibility to have another kid, not consciously anyway. Even though my daughter was gone, I still felt like her father. It scared me how much I wanted this baby. And you. Because if I hadn't lost my family, I wouldn't need a new one. So this yearning for a new start just couldn't be right."

"You deserve a second chance. You deserve to be happy, Patrick. I know I don't make it easy for you, but I want you to be happy." She tells him resolutely, now tearing up as well.

"I know that. Now I know that. It took some time but I know now that I'm not replacing Anna with the new baby, I only want a chance to raise another child. On the day you confirmed the pregnancy I went for a walk and I ended up on a bench at a playground. I watched parents with their kids and remembered Anna's shouts of glee when I pushed her higher and higher on the swing. I realized that I wouldn't mind to push another kid on a swing. I'll be more scared than before that the kid will fall down and get hurt, but I want to be there to hear the delighted shrieks or to put a band-aid on a grazed knee."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I got worried about you for a moment." She smiles at him through her veil of tears. "You know, if you want to take those boxes to the new house, I don't mind."

"No, I think I'll give all the stuff to an orphanage. I don't need it to remember her."

"Okay." She notices him glancing at the second box and then watches him open it. He seems to be so lost in his inspection of all the toys that she feels like an intruder. Maybe she should allow him a little more privacy to say goodbye. "Patrick? Do you maybe need a moment alone?"

"Maybe a minute, if that's okay. I won't be long." He takes her hands in his to help her up. When they are standing face to face, Teresa gives in to the urge to stroke his cheek. For a moment he closes his eyes, leaning into her palm, before covering her hand with his own and bringing it up to his lips to place two feathery kiss on her fingertips.

"I'll be outside, take your time." She smiles at him when she leaves the room.

The sunlight dazzles her when she exits the house. Standing on the door steps, she enjoys the bracing warmth on her face. After a while she retreats to an abandoned garden swing, whose coat of paint has sure seen better days once. Her feet are too swollen and the baby in her stomach is too lively for her to care about flaking paint and she settles down, soon dozing off.

She only notices that Patrick joins her when he puts a moon-shaped plush toy on her belly and the first beats of 'All the Pretty Little Horses' break the silence. "This was Anna's favorite toy. She never wanted to sleep before she at least heard the song twice, even though she exclaimed often during the day that she's much too old for a lullaby. I think our baby should have a reminder of his big sister."

"That's a wonderful idea. One day you should tell our kid about Anna." She encourages him, meaning every word of it.

"Come on, let's drive. I already put my stuff in the truck." He holds out his hand for her and she takes it, not letting go until they reach the car.


	8. Changes

Extremely cautious to make no noise, Teresa tiptoes through the living room at the crack of dawn. She memorized the location of all the moving boxes during her previous walks to the bathroom and already put Patrick's shoes out of the way as well, so this time he doesn't even stir slightly when she passes his sleeping body on the couch.

It was a rough night. Not only was she nervous about moving, the baby also was very active most of the time and alternated between kicking her stomach and her bladder. Probably her nervousness riled up the baby and the more it did somersaults, the less she was able to calm down. Noticing the dark circles around her eyes in the bathroom mirror, she really hopes that she'll get some sleep once the move is over and she settled in at the new house.

Back in the living room, she decides that lying down again doesn't make much sense. She wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Sitting down in the armchair closest to the couch, she is surprised to find that this is much more comfortable than tossing and turning in bed and that watching Patrick sleep is quite entertaining.

He looks so peaceful with his hand curled up around his head, his mouth slightly open. She wonders what he is dreaming about, because surely he's dreaming as his eyelids flutter softly. The little smile on his lips hints at pleasant dreams. Does he dream of her? Of their baby? It's hard to tell, hard to know. But he appears relaxed and happy and she can't stop looking at him, sorting through a million feelings and thoughts while she studies his face. But his steady breathing has a soothing effect on her and soon her eyelids begin to feel heavy.

"Teresa?" A soft voice causes her to wake up. Slowly opening her eyes, Patrick's face is the first thing she sees.

He is smiling at her, his rumpled, damp hair indicating that he took a shower not long ago. She sits up and notices that the sun is shining brightly into the room and that Patrick already switched his sleepwear for jeans and the blue shirt he bought on their latest shopping spree.

"How late is it?" She asks, stifling a yawn, stunned that she didn't even hear him getting up.

He kneels down in front of the armchair and with a grin brushes an unruly strand of hair out of her face. "Almost eight thirty, sleepyhead. I was a little surprised when I woke up and saw that I had an audience. I hope I didn't drool when you watched me sleep."

"I didn't watch you sleep. Not for long, anyway." She mutters, knowing that denying is pointless when talking to Patrick.

"I didn't want to go back to bed and this place is really comfortable. _Your_ kid kept me up all night." She teasingly accuses him, smiling when he puts a hand on her belly.

"Is that so? Listen, buddy, your mommy needs to have her sleep because otherwise she gets cranky and your daddy will have a hard time. You don't want that, do you? It's bad enough that she forces me to sleep on the couch." She rolls her eyes at his words, but has to admit to herself that she loves him talking to the baby inside her belly.

"If you're wrong and we get a girl, you'll pay for the therapy she'll need after being called 'buddy' all the time."

"I'm not wrong. You'll see once he finally gets over his shyness and lets the doctor have a decent look at the crucial body parts." She wonders how he can be so confident. So far, every ultrasound failed to reveal the sex of their baby. Teresa doesn't mind since she isn't really sure she even wants to know in advance, while Patrick is so keen to get a proof for his claim that he's very disappointed by the baby continuously hiding the secret.

Patrick straightens himself, bringing her back to reality. Today they are moving and she isn't even dressed yet. She should have some breakfast and get ready and pack the few things that are still not in boxes.

"Relax." Patrick puts his hands on her shoulders, sensing her oncoming panic. "We have all day and if we don't get it all done today, we can continue tomorrow. We have the whole weekend and Monday off, no need to panic. You should get dressed though, breakfast will be delivered soon."

"Delivered?" She is confused. "By whom?"

"It's a surprise. But trust me, you don't want to be in your pj's for that." Before she can protest, he turns her around and gently pushes her in the direction of her bedroom. "You go get dressed and I put the rest of the kitchen stuff into a box."

Fifteen minutes later Teresa exits the bathroom, luckily already dressed and combed and with brushed teeth as right in this moment someone knocks at the apartment door. She shoots Patrick a questioning glance, but he only smirks and motions to her to answer the door. The last time he looked at her with this particular expression, she had to find a foster home for a pony, so she is a little uneasy when she opens.

"Morning, boss!"

She stares incredulously at the three smiling members of her team."What are you doing here?"

"Jane mentioned that you move and we offered to help. And we brought sandwiches and coffee. Well, tea for you and Jane." Grace proudly announces, holding up a big paper bag. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Actually, he didn't. He told me that he's strong enough to carry all the furniture down himself. Not that I believed him, but I thought it would be fun to watch him trying to shoulder the couch." She flashes Jane a sassy smile and he sticks his tongue out at her when the others aren't watching.

Soon all five of them are sitting around the kitchen table for breakfast, chatting and scheduling the move. Teresa grudgingly accepts, after everyone keeps telling her that they won't let her carry anything, that her main task will be making sure that things go smoothly and delegating the boxes and furniture to the right rooms.

After breakfast, when they start to load the first boxes into the truck, Teresa pulls Patrick into her bedroom before he can head down the stairs with the others.

"Really, now of all times you want to take our relationship to the next level?" He asks with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, sitting down on her bed and invitingly patting the empty space next to him.

She decides that it is the safer choice to stay where she is. "Did you tell them that you're moving into the house as well?"

"No, I didn't. I thought they'd get suspicious and since you don't want them to know yet that I'm the father, I kept quiet. I'll just put my boxes in my room and unpack them later when they're gone."

She can tell that he is less than thrilled about her continued reluctance to reveal his paternity and is touched that he still keeps his promise to let her decide when to tell the others. Suddenly she feels ashamed for being so selfish and fully understands for the first time how hard the secrecy must be for him.

"You could have told them, I don't mind."

His eyes light up. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think I'm finally ready to let them know that we're having the baby together. I don't want that kid to grow up thinking you're Uncle Patrick."

"So, you're going to tell them?" He asks, happy and excited.

"I will. I'm not really sure how, but I will." Just blurting it out while they are busy with carrying boxes and furniture doesn't seem right. "Or, maybe you could tell them. Don't like men bragging that they knocked someone up?"

He chuckles. "Why would they?"

"Because it implies they got lucky and seriously, which man wouldn't like to brag with _that_?" She tries to convince him, even though she doesn't really think that - after she stalled him for so many months - he'll take over the task to tell the others.

"I'm sure you can tell them much better." He stands up from her bed and grins at her before leaving the room.

Teresa sighs. Well, it was worth a try.

For the next hours everyone is busy with moving truckloads of Teresa's stuff from the apartment to the house. Apart from a minor injury of Rigsby's big toe, everything goes smoothly. Soon the rooms of the house are cluttered with boxes and scattered furniture. They take a little break for lunch and order Chinese, Teresa's latest food preference, before starting to put everything where it belongs.

With the help of Rigsby and Van Pelt, Teresa begins to unpack boxes in the sitting room and is highly amused about Rigsby's insecurity whenever she is near him.

"Rigsby, relax." His look alternates between her face and her belly as she talks to him. "The baby won't go all 'Alien' on you and attack you from out of my belly."

"I know." He quickly replies, still fixated on her stomach. Just in this moment the baby decides to do some kick boxing exercises and her belly begins to bulge out and move.

Rigsby's eyes express sheer horror. "I... I'll be over here and unpack those boxes with books."

"Luckily men don't get pregnant instead of women, the human race would be extinct by now." Teresa teases and Rigsby blushes all over, causing her and Grace to share an amused look.

"I love the house. It has a really nice atmosphere. And the garden is so beautiful." Grace tells her after some minutes of silently putting stuff from the boxes on shelves.

"Yeah, I fell in love with the house when I first saw it."

Grace glances at her, obviously trying to decide if it is safe to speak her mind. "It's kind of big though for you and the baby, isn't it?" She cautiously asks.

Teresa takes a moment to contemplate if she should take the cue and reveal who the father of her baby is. Probably. "Well, me and the baby won't be the only ones living here..."

"Oh. So the baby's father will move in with you?"

"Yes."

"That's great." Grace happily smiles at her. "I mean, I wasn't sure that you are still together with him, so it's nice to know that you are. Where is he right now?"

Teresa just takes a deep breath and steals herself to announce that he is right in the next room, when the men in question appears and accusingly points a finger at her. "What do you think you're doing with that chair?"

Teresa looks down at the furniture in her hands. She grabbed it to bring it to another room, without even thinking about it. "Carrying it to the kitchen where it belongs. I can do that, no need to worry."

Fast as lightning, he is at her side and wrenches the piece of furniture from her. "No way, that's much too heavy for you."

"It's only a chair!" She protests, outwardly annoyed but secretly amused by his behavior.

"Doesn't matter, let me take care of it. Really, I can't leave you unattended for a minute. Grace, make sure she doesn't lift anything heavier than a book."

Before he exits the room he throws a warning look at Teresa, undoubtedly wondering if it is really safe to leave her alone with only Van Pelt and Rigsby to watch over her.

"Just don't break it." Teresa calls after him. "I'm quite fond of this chair."

"Yeah, man, be careful. She might be pregnant, but she still has a gun." Cho advises when he and Patrick meet at the door.

"He is really overprotective." Teresa pouts. "I mean, it was a _chair_."

"I think it's cute." Grace says with a smile. "He's so concerned about you all the time. You could think he's the father."

Teresa freezes, feeling her cheeks starting to burn. It's now or never. "Well,... Actually,... He is."

That earns her everyone's attention. Just as Teresa thinks she can't take it any longer that three speechless agents stare at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Grace delivers her. "Oh my God! Wow! Really? You two?"

"Well, yeah." Teresa shrugs. "Not anymore. I mean... It's complicated."

"Told you it was weird that Jane didn't freak when Lisbon announced her pregnancy." Rigsby tells Cho and confuses the two women.

"Why would he freak out?" Grace asks.

"Well, if Lisbon had a kid with some other guy, he'd go ballistic." Cho states as if that fact should be obvious for everyone. "He has a thing for you, boss. Everyone knows that."

Teresa is thankful when Van Pelt spares her from responding to Cho's remark by asking her another question. "So he is moving in here with you?"

"He is. We want to raise the kid together."

"But you're not really a couple?" Grace looks confused. "That's weird."

"I guess. But we'll figure it out somehow."

"I'm sure you will. Either way, I think it is really, really great that you two have a baby together."

Jane reenters the room, balancing a big container on his hands. "Who wants a donut?"

Nobody answers, instead four pairs of eyes stare at him. He looks from grinning face to grinning face, obviously not sure what to make of the situation.

"What?" He finally asks, smiling nervously. "Anything wrong?"

Cho and Rigsy leave the room and pat Patrick on the shoulder when they pass him.

"You sneaky bastard." Rigsby murmurs with a smirk, throwing Patrick even more for a loop.

"What did I do?" He looks really helpless now and Teresa can't help laughing.

Grace stands up to exit the room as well, sensing that her boss and Jane might need some time alone.

She gives Patrick a quick hug and smiles at him knowingly. "Congratulations, daddy."

He incredulously stares at his red-haired collegue and then at Teresa. "You told them?"

"The topic came up, so..."

He makes her sit down on the couch before settling down next to her. His look is full of joy and tenderness when he thanks her for officially making him a father-to-be.

"Sorry that it took so long." She apologizes sincerely. "I should have told them much earlier."

He smiles at her and takes her hand in his, stroking her skin with his thumb. "I learnt to be patient."

For a while they are silent, before Patrick speaks up again. "Unfortunately I have some bad news. You need to be strong now." Her heart sinks. "The chair didn't make it."

She is just about to tell him that it would have been safer if she had taken care of the chair, when she notices a roguish sparkle in his eyes.

"You made that up!" Her hand hits his arm. "That was cruel. And much worse for my health than carrying light chairs."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." He puts both of his hands on her belly. "How's our little one behaving after my pep talk this morning?"

Before she can reply, Rigsby stands in the door frame, clearing his throat and uneasily looking from Patrick to Teresa and back.

"No need to be embarrassed, Rigsby. It's not like I have my hands on her breasts or anything." Patrick quips, making both Rigsby and Teresa blush. She is sure that poor Rigsby will need a while to recover from the mental image Patrick's suggestion evoked.

"Ehm, I guess I should get used to you guys touching each other in public." Rigsby bravely replies, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. "Boss, if you can spare Jane's hands for a while, we need them for putting up a wardrobe upstairs."

Teresa laughs when Patrick follows Rigsby out, then she goes for the discarded box of donuts.

When all furniture is where it belongs, Patrick sends their three helpers home. The rest of the day is spent with unpacking clothes and making the beds. By early evening Teresa's bedroom is pretty much finished, something that Patrick insisted on so she can sleep better than the night before.

At about 8 PM they are both so exhausted that they decide to call it a night. They walk upstairs together and Teresa feels a little awkward when it's time to say good night. Their rooms are facing each other, hers left of the stairs and his right, the baby's room between them. Through the ajar doors she glances into her homey room, an almost exact replica of her bedroom in the old apartment, and then into Patrick's, which only contains a bed, a nightstand and a wardrobe.

"We need to do some decorating in your room, it looks depressing."

"Why bother? I don't plan to use it for very long." He winks, making her even more nervous.

"Well, good night." She tells him, placing a peck on his cheek and quickly retreating to her room. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees the surprised, but pleased expression that the unexpected contact with her lips produced on his face.

Needless to say, she sleeps like a baby during the first night in her new home, dreaming something that she can't remember in the morning, but that makes her feel very content when she wakes up.

They spend the Sunday unpacking the last boxes, hanging up pictures and doing countless other little things to turn the house into a nice place to live. Teresa has to play nurse after an unlucky encounter between Patrick and a hammer, but other then that the day goes by uneventful. In the evening the house begins to look less like a bunch of junk rooms and more like a home.

"Do you want to watch a movie tonight?" He asks during dinner, the first meal they cooked together in their new kitchen.

She yawns instead of replying.

He laughs. "Okay, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Let's clean this up and then go to bed."

"It's not even 7." Teresa protests, yawning again. "I think I'm really a little tired though."

"I wouldn't have noticed." He teases her. "We're only living together for a weekend and we already have bedtimes like an elderly couple."

They clear the table and then go upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Teresa just finishes putting on her pajamas after taking a shower, when Patrick knocks at her door.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." She grants him access to her private room and he laughs once he's inside. She looks at him incredulously, having not the slightest idea what can possibly be funny enough to make him snort.

"That top is a little bit small, isn't it?"

She looks down on body, noticing that the shirt she picked doesn't even cover half of her belly and that its tightness accentuates her breasts in a very revealing way. She is sure it fit perfectly before the pregnancy, and that's probably the last time she wore it as well. Throwing Patrick a deadly glare, she flees into her bed to cover up her body.

"No need to hide, Teresa. Really, it's a very... inspiring view." She pulls up her blanket to her chin and frowns at him when he sits down at the edge of her bed, unsure what his next move will be. His closeness is very intriguing, for sure, but she is relieved when he lets the topic rest and instead shows her a book.

"How about I read to you for a while?"

"What's that?" She asks suspiciously, trying to see the title.

"A book with 100,000 baby names."

He ignores her groan and opens the book. "Yeah, I know, every time we discuss names it leads nowhere, but who knows - maybe one of those 100,000 is a name we both like. We really should try to find one, time is running out."

She meanwhile believes that their kid will still be nameless when it's three years old and she and Patrick will then still try to agree on a name. At least they have middle names, so maybe she should just tell him to use those as first names and get it over with. But his voice is soothing and so she rolls over to lie on her right sight, her favorite sleeping position these days, and listens to him. A hand on her uncovered underbelly, she falls asleep somewhere between 'Arthur' and 'Ashton'.

The next day at noon Teresa comes home from her scheduled doctor's appointment. It wasn't easy to convince Patrick to let her go alone, but after she reassured him several times that there wouldn't be an ultrasound today, he gave in.

"What did the doctor say?" He asks when she enters the kitchen where he sits at the table, munching a sandwich. He really loves his sandwiches, she already noticed that long ago. They seem to be for him what ice cream is for her.

"She was very pleased with me and the baby."

"Care to elaborate? Seeing that you forced me to stay at home."

"Hey, stop pouting." She sits down next to him and reaches for the sandwich he offers her. "It would have been pretty boring for you today. I only had to pee in a cup and endure a pretty unpleasant pelvic exam."

"Okay." His expression softens. "Will there be an ultrasound next time?"

"Yes. And the baby's heartbeat will be monitored. I promise that we'll go there together then."

They eat the rest of their sandwiches in silence. Chewing, she glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. He looks cute when he eats, appearing to block everything else out and focus only on the food in his hands. She realizes that living with him already feels comfortable, a smooth transition that didn't really need much adjusting. Teresa isn't sure if it will stay this way, but she knows that she wants this house to be a home for both, or better all three, of them.

She decides to change their original plans for the rest of the day - buying wall paint for the nursery and putting up some of the baby's furniture - and spend some quality time with Patrick.

"Let's go for a walk to get to know our new neighborhood. And then in the evening we can go out for dinner. Anywhere you want. My treat. What do you say?"

He rewards her suggestion with a boyish grin. "What's the occasion?"

"No special occasion." She stammers. "I just thought we deserve some fun after the last two days."

He stands up and puts their plates into the sink. "Okay, let's have some fun."

"I only need to go to the bathroom, then we can go."

"You need to go there pretty often lately." He teases.

"Hey, it's not my fault that our baby uses my bladder as a punching bag."

She is looking forward to a nice day and evening with Patrick when she enters the bathroom. When she joins Patrick in the kitchen again, her mood is a totally different one.

"An ice cream truck just entered our street. If you want, we can..." His voice trails off when he notices her crestfallen expression. "What's wrong?"

"I'm bleeding." She simply says, her eyes tearful.


	9. Six Weeks

"It will be alright." Patrick reassures her on their way to the hospital, using the exact same words for the third time since she came out of the bathroom.

Unlike the two times before, Teresa's rising panic makes it impossible for her to share his fake optimism. She knows that he is as worried as she is, even though he tries his best to hide it for her sake. His pinched mouth and the way he clutches the steering wheel, his knuckles white from holding on too tightly, speak volumes.

"You don't know that." She whispers, both of her hands on her belly.

"No, but I feel it." He offers her a faint, genuine smile and she feels strangely calmed, more than a full-fledged smile would have been able to achieve. She is really glad to have him at her side in this very moment.

"It wasn't that much blood..." She says, an attempt to cheer herself and him up.

"See." He smiles at her again, encouragingly and tenderly. "And you feel the baby move."

"Not right now, but I did when I we sat at the kitchen table. And I don't feel any pain, so that's probably a good sign, right?"

He places his hand on hers when they have to stop at a red light and looks her straight in the eye. "It will be alright."

This time she doesn't argue. Maybe he is right. He probably is. He just _must_ be right.

At the hospital, Patrick helps her out of the car and Teresa feels a little better when they enter the emergency room, hoping that all the doctors and fancy equipment in this place will be enough to help her and the baby. Her heart sinks though a little at the sight of the sour-faced woman behind the reception desk.

"Hi, my name is Teresa Lisbon. I called about 15 minutes ago."

The elderly nurse hardly even looks up from her apparently very fascinating paperwork, but at least she picks up the phone to call a doctor.

"Dr. Parker will be with you in a minute." She informs Teresa and then eyes Patrick suspiciously. "Is this the father?"

Teresa nods, wondering if the woman has an aversion for men in general or only for Patrick. Probably the first option, since her whole demeanor screams 'rancorous spinster'.

"Well, young men, make yourself useful and fill in those forms for me." She tells him, making it obvious that she deems him not very useful for anything else.

Teresa grabs Patrick's hand and squeezes it, sensing that he is on the edge of telling the nurse where she can stick those damn forms. Luckily at this moment another nurse and a young, female doctor approach them and Teresa is relieved to finally see some more friendly faces.

After a brief introduction and a quick exchange of pleasantries, Teresa is put into a wheelchair to bring her upstairs for a thorough checkup.

"He can come with me, right?" Teresa asks Dr. Parker with panic in her voice, pointing at Patrick who, under the stern look of Nurse Grumpy, fills in forms.

"Not before he is done here." The unkind nurse replies instead of the doctor.

Dr. Parker cringes at the harsh sound of the nurse's voice and Teresa notices that the doctor looks pretty intimidated. "It's hospital policy, sorry. He can join us later, okay?"

Teresa's eyes begin to fill with tears at the prospect of having to go through this alone. Patrick kneels down in front of her, taking her hands in his, and she immediately calms down.

"Can't you hypnotize her to be nicer, or something?" Teresa whispers.

"Impossible, I told you that people won't act against their true will when hypnotized. Besides, I'm afraid she's immune to any trick I could try. I hate leaving you alone, but I promise I'll escape as soon as possible to be with you. I guess it wouldn't help much to make a fuss and upset the old harridan even more, huh?" He conspiratorially tells her in a low voice, making her smile slightly.

As she is wheeled away, she looks over her shoulder back at him, trying to shake the feeling that everything might have changed for the worse when she sees him the next time.

She patiently endures endless tests, including a pelvic exam and a transvaginal ultrasound, and answers all the question the doctor asks her. The more time passes, the more anxious she gets. When she is finally lying alone in a room, plugged to a cardiotocograph to monitor the baby's heartbeat and to record uterine contractions, her patience runs out and the uncertainty almost makes her cry.

She desperately wants someone to tell her what is wrong with her baby, if anything is wrong at all. And she really, really needs Patrick to be with her. Seriously, how long does it take to fill in some stupid forms? When a nurse comes in to check on her, she can't take it any longer.

"My..."

Friend? Too platonic. Roomie? Geez, no. Child's father? Too impersonal. Oh, what the hell!

"... boyfriend..."

Much better.

"... is somewhere out there. Can you please find him for me? I really need him. His name is Patrick Jane. The last time I saw him he was held hostage by a nurse at the reception desk."

The young woman snickers. "Ah, Nurse Tanner. Poor guy. I'm transferring to another hospital by the end of the week, so I'm not afraid to stir her wrath." She winks at Teresa before leaving to room. "He'll be with you in a minute."

After what seems like an eternity, Patrick sticks his head in at the door. "Finally!"

"I'm sorry. She picked a fight because I forgot a dot over an i. This women is insane!" He exclaims, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"How do you feel?" He places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Okay, I guess. Only going crazy from all the waiting."

"Did the doctor say anything yet?"

Before Teresa can reply, Dr. Parker enters the room. Her facial expression doesn't give away at all if she has good or bad news for them and Teresa nervously reaches for Patrick's hand.

"Let me have a quick look at the display screen and the printout and then we can talk." The doctor tells them.

Teresa and Patrick watch the doctor analyzing the data and taking notes, anxiously waiting for any sign to tell them what to expect.

"And?" Teresa finally blurts out, unable to bear the silence for one more second.

Finally the doctor looks up from her charts and papers. "This looks all very good."

"Really?" Teresa inquires, not yet ready to allow herself to hope.

"Yes. The heart rate of your baby is stable. You have some slight contractions, but that's not unusual at this point in your pregnancy."

"What about the bleeding?" Patrick chimes in.

The doctor smiles at both of them. "We can rule out any serious problem that can cause bleeding this late in the pregnancy. Especially, the placenta is intact and the cervix is still tightly closed. Those are always my main concerns when a woman comes here with bleeding during the third trimester. You really have no reason to worry."

"But something must have caused the bleeding, right?" Teresa still doesn't feel reassured completely.

"Did you recently have sexual intercourse?"

"No!" Patrick immediately answers for her, causing Teresa to look at him with raised eyebrows.

"No, right?" He asks, apparently waiting with bated breath for her reply.

She is very amused by his sudden display of insecurity. Seriously, how can he even think for a second that she's secretly sleeping with other guys while being pregnant with his baby? Besides, when would she do that since he is around her all the time? She rolls her eyes at him and notices a slight grin on Dr. Parker's lips when she turns to her to confirm that she indeed didn't have sex lately.

"Okay. When was your last vaginal exam, apart from the one I did today?" The doctor continues, still trying unsuccessfully to hide her grin.

"Just this morning. It was pretty unpleasant."

"It's not uncommon to experience slight bleeding after such an exam during pregnancy. Your cervix is very sensitive right now."

Teresa heaves a sigh of relief. "So that is it? I guess I overreacted a little then."

"No, it was absolutely right that you came here." The doctor reassures her. "Bleeding should always be taken seriously during pregnancy."

"So what happens next? Do we need to take any precautions? Does Teresa need bed rest for a while or anything?" Patrick asks, already in full overprotective mode again.

Teresa frowns. "I certainly don't need bed rest."

Luckily the doctor supports her protest. "No, she really doesn't. What do you work?"

"I do mainly desk work. Coordinating things and working at the computer."

"Okay, you can still do that. Just make sure to take a lot of breaks, eat and drink regularly and put your feet up once in a while. Don't overstrain yourself."

"We work together, I'll make sure she behaves." Patrick announces, making Teresa flinch and the doctor laugh.

"When is your next regular doctor's appointment?" Dr. Parker asks Teresa.

"In two weeks."

"Maybe you should make an earlier appointment. You will feel safer when you don't have to wait two weeks for the next checkup." The doctor suggests. "Also, I think it's best to refrain from sexual intercourse, at least for a while."

"No danger for that to happen anyway." Patrick mumbles under his breath, holding up his hands in defense when both Teresa and the doctor stare at him. "Just thinking out loud, don't mind me."

"Now, if you don't have any more questions, let me disconnect you from the monitor and then we'll do another ultrasound before you can go home. You'll feel more reassured by a visual of your healthy baby than any of my words can achieve."

A couple of minutes later, Teresa and Patrick excitedly watch their baby sticking his or her thumb into his or her mouth. Well, 'his' according to Patrick, while Teresa doesn't choose a preference.

"You don't know the sex of your baby yet?" Dr. Parker asks, after listening to their banter for a while.

They both shake their heads.

"I can tell you now, if you want."

"No."

"Yes."

Patrick incredulously studies Teresa's face for signs that she's joking. "You don't want to know?"

"I'm not really sure." She shrugs her shoulders. "I think I rather want to be surprised. In six weeks we'll know anyway."

"Really? You're not curious at all?"

Dr. Parker clears her throat. "Ehm, I'll be outside for a couple of minutes, telling the nurse to prepare your discharge papers and a report for your doctor."

"If you want, you can ask Dr. Parker to tell you confidentially." Teresa suggests when they are alone.

"No, either we both know or neither of us. I'm good at keeping secrets, but I couldn't guarantee to not accidentally reveal that one. You really don't want to know?" He looks at her with puppy dog eyes and Teresa feels her resolve crumble.

"Things will be much easier when we know if we get a boy or a girl." Patrick then tries to decoy her.

"How so?"

"Well, we then only have to agree on a name for a girl _or_ boy, instead of both. Imagine how much time this will save." He does have a point there, Teresa has to admit. "And it will be much easier to choose a color for the baby's room. Plus, you can admire or mock me already today, depending on whether my hunch was correct or not."

She can't help smiling and his grin gets wider when he knows that he convinced her.

"So, who won?" Dr. Parker asks with a smirk when she comes back.

"Fine, tell us." Teresa says, trying her best to ignore Patrick's triumphant behavior.

She holds her breath while the doctor moves the probe over her belly and pelvis area, suddenly feeling very nervous. Patrick obviously experiences the same emotion as his hand covering hers starts feeling clammy.

"Here." Dr. Parker points at a spot on the screen." This is your baby's penis."

Patrick is grinning happily all the time when Dr. Parker removes the transmission gel from Teresa's belly, when she wishes them all the best for the remaining six weeks of the pregnancy and the time afterwards and when he and Teresa walk to the car. She lets him, enjoying his excitement about getting a son and about guessing correctly.

But then, on the drive home, she can't hold back any longer. It would contradict the essence of their relationship to not respond at all to Patrick's victory.

"Lucky guess." She murmurs. "You had a fifty-fifty chance, so it's not that impressive."

For the rest of the way they are both grinning.

When they arrive at home, the sun is just setting. Teresa feels exhausted and, after eating some fruits, goes up to her room. Leaving the door ajar to be able to wish Patrick good night when he comes upstairs, she settles down on her bed. Once alone, her hands stroking her belly, she starts thinking about the events of the day, about how scared she was to lose the baby. When her son avidly kicks against her palm, she loses it.

All the emotions she kept on the inside while spending endless hours at the hospital erupt at once. The anxiousness while waiting for clarity. The confusion when she discovered that she needs Patrick more than she so far realized. The immense relief after understanding that everything is fine. The tenderness after learning that she'll have a son.

She is unable to stop crying once she begins and it isn't until two arms wrap around her and Patrick's calm voice sinks in, that she even wants to stop.

"What happened? Are you in pain?" He scans her body for obvious, physical damage and still doesn't seem even a little bit relieved when he comes up empty.

"Teresa. Talk to me. Please." His voice is soft and she finally finds the strength to breath deeply and to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"It... it was just a little too much today." She admits. "One moment everything is fine and the next I'm so scared to lose our baby that I can't think of anything else. I don't know what I would do if anything would have happened to him."

He tenderly strokes her hair. "I know. I was scared, too."

"If I already am so worried before he's even born, how will it be later? I'll be the most overprotective mother ever. He'll hate me when he grows up."

"He won't hate you. You'll be a great mother." He reassures her, gently rubbing her back.

"How can you be so sure of that?" She sobs.

"Well, alone the fact that you're crying right now because you're afraid you won't be a good mother, is enough proof for me that you will be."

She knits her brows. "What kind of logic is that?"

"The famous Jane logic. It's always accurate." She can't help responding to his smile with one of her own.

"I think I'll be a little overprotective myself, after..." Patrick's voice trails off, but she knows that he is thinking about Anna and his inability to protect her.

"We need to find the right balance together." She gives his hand a quick squeeze. "We will love him, but we'll stop each other from being too overprotective."

Patrick eyes light up. "We need a signal."

"A signal?"

"Yes, a secret signal to stop each other from being too overprotective. We could pinch each other!"

She laughs. "Our skin will be studded with bruises in no time."

"Who cares, at least our son will be fine." Getting serious again, he puts his hands on her stomach. "Now that I made you laugh, do you think you can sleep? You need some rest."

The thought of him leaving her alone now doesn't sound that appealing for Teresa. She feels very close to him today and she also feels that she needs this closeness to calm down enough to actually fall asleep.

"Can you... maybe... sleep here tonight? I don't want to be alone." She reluctantly asks, biting her lower lip.

If he is surprised by her request, he doesn't show it. "Sure. I can get the mattress from my bed and place it on the floor right next to your bed, okay?"

This suggestion and his obvious consideration for her feelings behind it, touches her immensely. Apparently, all the months of keeping him at arm's length made him pretty cautious in dealing with her.

"That's not necessary, I think. You can sleep in my bed." She nonchalantly tells him, her heart skipping a beat when he smilingly slips under the covers next to her.

She should probably tell him that letting him sleep in her bed doesn't mean he'll never need his own bed anymore. But she keeps her mouth shut, discovering that at this point she isn't sure herself how their sleeping arrangements will be after tonight.

She shifts to lie on her left side to be able to look at him and he soon mirrors her position. His eyes sparkle in the dim light of the bedside lamp and she has trouble tearing her look away from them.

"Well, good night." She finally stammers. "I sleep on my right side, it's more comfortable for me lately. So don't be offended that I now turn my back on you."

He chuckles when she gets in her sleeping position and switches off the light. "No offense taken. Good night, Teresa."

She soon realizes that his presence doesn't help her to fall asleep at all. The contrary is the case. She listens to his breathing, trying to find out if he is still awake. Just as she contemplates if she should say something to him, he beats her to it. Typical. Of course _he_ knows that she isn't asleep.

"Teresa?"

"Mmh?"

"How about Sullivan?"

"Sullivan?" She asks, confused by his choice of topic for a nightly chat.

"As a name, for our son."

She puts on the light again and turns around to face him. "Is there actually one of your ancestors whose name was not Patrick?"

"Unfortunately not." He laughs. "But there's a story behind the name. Are you too tired to hear it? It can wait until tomorrow if you are."

There's no way that she'll miss this now. "I'm all ears."

"It was a rainy autumn night." He begins, in a storyteller voice. "An extremely handsome blond man and a babelicious dark-haired woman arrived at her house after work."

She rolls her eyes. He can't be serious! "Babelicious?"

"Believe me, she was. Where was I?"

"The hunk and the babe, aka you and me, arrive at my house." She sarcastically reminds him.

"Right. It wasn't really surprising that she invited him up to her apartment, it's not the first time she did that. I mean, seriously, which woman could resist this extremely handsome blond man?"

Her hand playfully hits his upper arm. "Will you just tell the story?"

"Okay, okay. The rain was falling down on them as she looked for her keys to open the front door, but they didn't care. In fact, instead of just opening the door, she started kissing him..."

"You mean, _he_ started kissing her without a warning and startled her enough to drop the keys."

" _They_ started kissing each other before entering the building." He partly gives in. "They were drenched when they finally made it up to her apartment and she immediately began taking off her wet clothes, a view he thoroughly enjoyed."

"There is no Sullivan in this story, is there?" She asks, yawning.

"There is. My dear, you really need to improve your patience before that kid is born." He mockingly scolds her, grinning from ear to ear. "Before she got naked and turned him on in the process, she turned on the radio. Only for a few seconds, because she rather wanted to make out with the drop-dead gorgeous blond guy instead of listening to music."

"I did not!" Teresa protests. "The radio stopped working because of a power outage."

"Whatever. The song, however, was a song by Gilbert O' _Sullivan_." He triumphantly exclaims.

She meets his announcement with disbelief. "It was? It never ceases to amaze me how much capacity for useless information your brain has."

"I remember everything about that night, not only the useless stuff. I like to believe that this was the night when you got pregnant." His voice is tender now and she can feel that not only the tone between them is about to change.

"Why this one?" She asks, genuinely curious what makes this night stand out compared to the others they spent together.

"Because it was perfect. The sound of the rain against the window. Your face illuminated by the light of the candles that you set up after the power outage." His palm tenderly caresses her cheek. "Somehow it felt like we were the only people in the world, stranded on a deserted island. I watched you sleep for most of the night and by dawn I realized that I was able to love again."

Suddenly her heart is pounding in her chest and her mind is working on overdrive, trying to understand that he just - kind of, indirectly - told her that he loves her. She feels nervous, excited, scared and happy all at once. A lump forms in her throat and when she tries to say something, all she can produce is a weak croak. Not that she really knows how to put what she wants to tell him into words anyway, but she knows that she has to try.

"You should get some sleep. It's been a long day." Patrick suddenly tells her, seemingly oblivious to her inner struggle. As if. She knows that he must have noticed her weak attempt to respond to his confession, but he apparently decided for both of them that now is not the right time to continue that particular conversation.

Maybe he is right. She should probably sleep it over and polish her speech before speaking up. She turns off the light and rolls over to lie on her right side again. Unlike before, he now snuggles up to her and puts his arm around her. At least her body language sent the right message, even if her words failed her.

"I like the name Sullivan." She whispers in the dark.

She can feel him smile against her shoulder. "Me too."

"I'm glad you didn't choose Gilbert, I'd have to kick a guy with such bad taste in names out of my bed."

His laugh vibrates through her body when he embraces her even tighter. "You wouldn't dare."

No, she thinks that she probably wouldn't. His hand strokes her stomach in slow, lazy circles and this, in combination with the sound of his breathing, finally lulls her to sleep. The last thing she notices is his hand slipping under her shirt to rest directly on the skin of her belly for the night.

She doesn't mind, it feels like it belongs there.


	10. Clarity

Rays of the bright morning sun find their way through the drawn curtains of the bedroom window and tickle Teresa's nose. Slowly, stretching her bed-warm feet under the blanket with relish, she opens her eyes and smiles. It's been a while since she felt that comfortable and happy and well rested. In fact, getting more awake, she can't remember the last time she felt this content right after waking up.

One of the reasons for her good mood - or, to be honest, the main reason - is lying right next to her. Cautiously she turns around, in gleeful anticipation of seeing Patrick's peaceful face or perky smile, depending on whether he is still sleeping or already awake. She is met with a sight she didn't expect: The imprint of Patrick's head is still visible on the pillow, the man himself, however, is gone.

Teresa reaches over to trace the shape on the pillow with her index finger, wondering what this means. Did he get up already right after she fell asleep or did he leave only minutes ago? And if he spent most of the night in his own bed, does that mean he wanted her to reply to his confession right away after all and is now disappointed? She jerks up. He wouldn't leave her completely, would he?

She glances at the clock on her nightstand. 8.37 AM. He probably only went to work. Wait, work? That's the place she is supposed to be as well, for over one and a half hours already. Damn. Why didn't he wake her up?

Quickly she gets out of bed and is just looking through her clothes to decide what to wear today, when she hears a noise downstairs - a noise that sounds suspiciously like clashing pots and pans. Teresa sticks her head out of the door and her nostrils immediately fill with the delicious smell of food. Pancakes. Bacon. Toast. And is this mouth-watering aroma hot chocolate? Being suddenly very hungry, Teresa heads down the stair and stops at the open kitchen door.

Patrick, still oblivious to her presence, seems determined to make enough breakfast to feed the whole neighborhood. For a while, she enjoys watching him rummaging through the cupboards, cracking eggs and twirling pancakes, before her hunger gets the better of her.

"Are you expecting guests for breakfast?" She asks, not even trying to hide her amusement, and enters the room.

He smiles when he notices her presence and motions to her to sit down. "Good morning. I'm only expecting you. You're just in time. "

Kneeling down, he places his hands on her pregnant belly. "Good morning, Sullivan."

"Wow, what a response!" He adds with a proud smile when his son forcefully kicks against his palms.

"Yeah, he's just in the middle of his morning exercises. Or maybe he's hungry. Because surely I am. This smells incredible."

"I guess I went way overboard." He tells her sheepishly, referring to the great variety of food on the table and the kitchen counter. "But I thought we need a nice breakfast after not eating much yesterday. What are you in the mood for?"

Teresa finds it incredibly hard to decide for only one thing and, after glancing at all the bowls and plates and trays, she gives in to seduction. "A little bit of everything, maybe?"

"I was hoping you'd say that." He cheerfully exclaims, already overloading her plate with various types of breakfast food.

He fills a plate for himself as well and sits down next to her. "How do you feel this morning?"

"Great. I slept really well last night. I think having you in my bed made all the difference." She teases him, although there is an underlying seriousness in her voice.

His eyes sparkle with surprise, and with something else. Delight? Probably. And a tiny hint of insecurity resonates somewhere in the mix of emotions as well. "Yeah?"

She hurries to nod, resolutely and honestly, and the insecurity in his look is replaced by joy. This day promises to be a good one for them, Teresa is sure of that. Too bad that they can't just stay at home today.

"I really appreciate the feast you dished up, this is all absolutely delicious. But you do know that we should be at work now, right?" She forces herself to say and to ruin the perfect complacency of the moment.

"That's okay. I explained what happened yesterday and already excused us for the whole day."

"What?"

"I called at work. We don't have to go there today." He specifies, oblivious to the gasp that escapes her mouth after his revelation. "Grace wants me to tell you that she's glad you and the baby are okay and even Minelli was very worried about you."

"You talked to Minelli?" Oh, no. She's in for trouble, she can feel it. There goes her hope to keep Minelli in the dark about her and Patrick until he's not her boss anymore. "Didn't he find it weird that you called in sick for me and then took the day off as well?"

"Why would he? I'm the father of your baby." Patrick nonchalantly replies, forking a piece of pancake to drown it in maple syrup.

"Yes, but Minelli doesn't know that." God, she hopes he doesn't. " If he would, he'd have called me to his office to give me a stern talk about official regulations and keeping work and private life apart."

"Don't worry about that." He waves her worries away, seemingly thinking she's overreacting. "He already tried to impose that talk on me a while ago. After reminding him that I'm not an agent and promising to not make out with you in front of him or the D.A., he gave up."

If this wouldn't be about her and if she wouldn't be so confused, she'd find this funny. But right now the idea of laughing doesn't cross her mind. "When did this man-to-man talk happen?"

"Right after you told him that you're pregnant. I went to him to ask if I can get some time off to be with you after the baby is born and one thing led to the next."

Her thoughts go back to the moment when Patrick waited for her outside Minelli's office and later went in there himself. "I thought you went into his office to test the couch."

"Oh, I was on the couch for the whole talk. Really great couch." He beams. "You have to convince Minelli to leave it there when he goes."

She simply stares at him, trying to process the information she just gathered. Minelli did look at her and Patrick with a weird expression a couple of times since she announced her pregnancy, that much is true. There was this one time when Minelli entered her office without knocking and, upon seeing Patrick in there with her, scowled and left without saying a word.

She blamed it on her boss having trouble to cope with her pregnancy. Kind of like an older, grumpier version of Rigsby. Apparently she was wrong. Her boss knew all the time that Patrick is the father of her baby, long before even her team knew.

"You are angry." He states when she finally looks up at him, searching her face for indications that it would be safer for him to run and hide from her wrath.

After some quick soul-searching, Teresa comes to the conclusion that anger is not what she feels. "No, I'm just confused. Minelli is fine with _us_ , sort of?"

"Don't worry about Minelli, I have a pretty tangible hunch that he cares a lot more about your happiness than about official regulations."

"Yeah, right." She snorts, but then she remembers how her boss offered her to consider him as a grandpa substitute for her baby.

"Okay, maybe you are right." She gives in. After all, there are more important matters to discuss now. "Are you serious about wanting to stay at home with me and the baby?"

"Yes. I guess I should have asked you first, but I didn't want to give you a chance to say no. Do you think it's a bad idea?" He anxiously asks her.

Teresa relives her emotions after not finding him in her bed this morning and, based on that feeling, she realizes that she wants to spend as much time with him as possible. "No, I think it will be nice to be home together. But can we afford this?"

"Don't worry about that. We can. There's money left from selling my house."

"Okay, then this is settled." She affirms with a smile and adds, "Thank you."

This takes him totally by surprise, if his stunned expression is any indication. "What for?"

"Just for being you. I don't know how I'd get through all this without you." Teresa tells him, wholeheartedly.

"Meh, you would." He shrugs it off, trying to hide how much her words touch him, but is not quite succeeding. "You're one of the most determined and strong people I know."

"Maybe. But it would be much less fun." She smiles at him, before turning her attention back to the food on her plate.

They enjoy the rest of their breakfast, alternating between chatting and silently eating. Teresa notices that the kitchen looks especially beautiful and homey at this hour of the day. It provides the right atmosphere for a wonderful breakfast with her best friend on this _almost_ perfect morning. She studies Patrick's face, listens to him excessively gushing over the best stroller in the recent test of a consumer magazine, and knows that it takes only one rectification to make this day truly perfect.

Before she can voice her thoughts, Patrick asks her what she wants to do today. His suggestion to put up furniture for the baby is not quite what she has in mind.

"You know, I've been thinking." She begins."Your room gets much more light and it's also a little bigger. Maybe it would be better to turn that one into Sullivan's room?"

"You think? Ehm, sure. I can take the other room." He hesitantly concedes.

"No, I think the other room could be a great place for books, I always wanted my own small library." She continues, showing him the most innocent facial expression she can muster up. "Or I could picture it as a walk-in closet."

His look is so dumbfounded, that she has a hard time to stop herself from laughing. "You want me to move into the guest room downstairs? I don't like that idea, it's too far away from you and the baby."

"You are right, you can't live in the guest room." Teresa reassures him, allowing him to breathe more easily, before striking again. "Where would the guests sleep then?"

He looks as if she slapped him. Seeing him so alert and somber makes her feel guilty about her little scheme. "What is wrong, Teresa? Are you getting cold feet? I thought it was going really well. I think I did a good job as a friend and father-to-be so far. A great job even. Are you firing me now after all we've been through?"

"I'm not firing you. I'm promoting you." She tells him in a very gentle voice, hoping that he finally understands what she's up to.

Instead, he looks even more thunderstruck. "You're promoting me?"

How can a man, who earns a living discovering people's deep, dark secrets by simply looking at them, be so clueless? He is adorable though in his confusion and she can't help smiling. Instead of wasting any more words, she decides to demonstrate her intentions.

Leaning forward, she cups his face with her hands and places a soft kiss on his lips. It takes a few seconds before he recovers from the initial shock, but then he responds eagerly. During all the months of keeping their relationship strictly platonic, she never forgot how his lips felt on hers. But still, her newfound clarity of emotions makes this kiss feel as if it would be their very first one.

"Does that mean you want to turn your bedroom into ours?" He whispers against her lips after a couple of blissful minutes, hardly able to stay away long enough to complete the sentence.

"Yes." She dreamily mumbles and recaptures his lips.

After what feels like hours of kissing, he breathlessly breaks contact again and flashes her a lovestruck smile that probably matches the one on her own face. "And you want to be more than just friends and parents?"

She nods. "Much more."

Patrick slides his tongue along her bottom lip, sensually and encouragingly. She parts her lips in response, moaning softly as his tongue starts dancing with hers. Not breaking the kiss, he gets up from his chair and pulls her with him. She sighs and turns her body toward him, linking her arms around his neck. They both chuckle, when her belly gets in contact with his stomach. It makes kissing in a standing position a little uncomfortable, but that doesn't stop them.

Soon Teresa experiences a familiar prickle of excitement. She caresses the nape of Patrick's neck and feels him smile against her lips, but then he suddenly pulls his head back.

"And you're really sure about us?" He asks cautiously, looking gorgeous with his cheeks flushed and his lips wet.

"Absolutely." She reassures him, sincerely. She knows now without a doubt that being with him is what she wants.

"Good. I already started to get nightmares about us still only being roomies ten years from now and me having to scare away all your dates."

Seriously, can't this man just stop talking in a situation like this? She dramatically rolls her eyes and he catches her off guard with another mind-blowing kiss. Amazed at how many emotions at once he evokes inside of her, she feels the heat creep up in her face and surge through her whole body. When his hand slips under her top and traces the underside of her left breast, she abruptly comes to her senses.

"Wait." She breathlessly stops him, pulling away. "We can't do this."

"Huh?" He looks as if he just woke up from a beautiful dream and is all of a sudden faced with the dreary reality.

"Oh. Right. Doctor's order. You had to wait to make up your mind until we can't celebrate it anymore, huh?" He teases her, tenderly stroking her belly.

She presses her forehead against his. "Believe me, I want this just as much as you do."

He slowly detaches from her arms and looks at her with an expression which tells her that he just comes up with one of his brilliant plans. Oh, no.

"Where is the calling card Dr. Parker gave us?" He asks, confusing her.

"At the pin board in the hall. Why?"

He leaves the room, picking up the phone on the way, and already dials when she catches up with him.

"What are you doing?" She asks, slightly agitated.

Instead of answering her question, he holds up his free hand to signal her to just wait and watch the Patrick Jane show.

"Hello? Hi, my name is Patrick Jane. Can I speak with Dr. Parker, please?" For a few seconds he listens to the voice on the other end of the line and Teresa grins at the thought that he might talk to Nurse Grumpy.

"Yes, it is an emergency." He finally continues, ignoring Teresa's incredulous stare. "Hi, Dr. Parker. My name is Patrick Jane. My _girlfriend..._ "

He smirks at Teresa.

".. and I were at the hospital yesterday. Her name is Teresa Lisbon and... Yes, right. That's us. You said we can call you anytime and, well, I have a question. You said that we should refrain from sexual intercourse and I was wondering if this includes _all_ sexual activities."

Teresa gasps, which apparently amuses Patrick immensely.

"Aha. Yes, I understand. You were a great help, Dr. Parker. Thank you. Thanks, will do. Bye!" He finally hangs up and grinningly faces his head-shaking girlfriend. "Dr. Parker says 'hi'."

"I can't believe you called a doctor for sex advice."

He rewards this with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I bet she gets that all the time."

"I kind of doubt it." Teresa tells him, now laughing because of the absurdity of the situation. And, she has to admit, she is a _little_ curious about the outcome of the phone call. "Well, what did she say?"

"She still thinks it's inadvisable to really sleep with each other because it can cause bleeding. But, the good news is, we don't have to keep our hands off each other completely. She even said that sexual satisfaction is the best method for you to relax." He announces perkily.

"She did not say that!"

"Yes, she did. With more complicated words, but the message was clear." A seductive smile begins to form on his lips and he steps closer to her, as close as her belly makes it possible. "Now, what do you say? My bedroom or yours?"

"Seeing that your bedroom has the charm of a prison cell, I'm voting for mine. Or better, _ours_."

They don't make it up the stairs without taking a break or two for kissing. When they finally reach the bedroom, Teresa begins to feel nervous. She really wants to be with him, wants to touch him and be touched by him. But it's been months since she had any sexual contact and a lot of things are different than they were then. She has changed, as well as her feelings and most importantly her body.

For a moment she wonders how Patrick can even find her attractive at all, seeing that she rather looks like a walrus than like a woman these days. Apparently, he doesn't share her concerns, as he begins to apply measured kisses along her jawline and throat. He gives her light blue pajama top a tug and she slithers out of it, the cool air of the room and his intent gaze making her momentarily shiver.

Reaching for the waistband of her pants, he places a soft kiss on her stomach, before pushing them down with leisurely hands. She steps out of the pants and he takes in the sight of her naked body in broad daylight, making her shy with the awareness that she was slender and bathed in dimness when he last saw her in the nude. He releases her when he strips down himself and closes the distance between them.

"You are stunningly beautiful." He tells her, burying his face at the crock of her neck. "No need to blush, it's the truth."

They stand in the middle of the room, doing nothing but holding each other, until Patrick starts kissing the top of her head, and then, with slow reverence, her lips. "You have no idea how glad I am that you changed your mind." He whispers so softly that she almost doesn't hear his words.

"I have a pretty good idea." She tells him, glancing down at his body and cheekily raising an eyebrow at the sight of how excited he is to be with her.

Their lips meet again and they slowly stumble towards the bed and fall on it in a messy heap of limbs and skin, but always careful to protect Teresa's pregnant belly from damage. Patrick rolls them onto their sides and gently begins to touch her breasts, his eyes awaiting confirmation that the caress is comfortable for her.

She arches into his hands, feeling arousal spreading inside of her as his fingertips feathery stroke her nipples. Like a blind woman exploring an unknown face, she slowly touches every inch of his chest and then moves on to trace the dimple of his navel.

For a long time, they let their hands and tongues do the talking, an occasional sigh or copious moan being the only sounds to escape their throats. Surprised, Teresa discovers that pregnancy isn't hindering for having a fulfilled love life, quite contrary even.

Afterwards, they lie under the covers face to face, simply smiling at each other and enjoying their togetherness.

"You okay?" He asks, startled by tears suddenly gleaming in her eyes.

"I'm happy." Looking into this eyes, she realizes that she doesn't need many, complicated words or a lengthy, sophisticated speech to let him know how she feels. It's pure and simple and surprisingly not scary at all.

"I love you." She says, plainly, and watches his eyes flicker.

He goes through a rainbow of emotions, starting with surprise and ending with rapture, before his face moves so close to hers that it blurs in front of her eyes.

"That's good." His lips softly touch hers and his eyelashes flutter against her cheek. "Because I love you, too."

"I really want this to work." Teresa tells him after he pulls away to look into her eyes again.

"It will."

"Yeah, I have a pretty good feeling about this as well." She smiles at him with newly discovered certainty.

"Hey, generally speaking, what is your opinion on the institution of marriage?" Apparently he is already one step ahead of her.

At first, she doesn't know whether to panic, or be happy. But after getting over the initial shock, she opts for smiling. "I'm not completely opposed to it. I think I'd look good in a wedding gown."

"Yes, you would."

"But," She clarifies. "I refuse to squeeze my pregnant belly into one."

"Noted. I'll save the big, pompous proposal until after the birth then." He tells her with a smirk and changes his position to rest his head on her belly.

She watches him talk to their son and feels his kisses tickling her skin, overwhelmed by the realization to really, finally feel completely at home.

"You really promised Minelli to keep your hands off me at work?" She asks flirtatiously. "Luckily _I_ didn't. I don't really trust my hands, now that they acquired a serious liking for touching you."

She grins at him and gives in to the urge to bury her hands in his curls - partly to emphasize her statement, but mainly just because she finally can.


	11. Seven Hours

"Patrick!" Teresa impatiently calls up the stairs. "I'm not keen on having a home birth! Can we please leave?"

There is no reaction at all to her request. She can't really blame him that he doesn't take her seriously anymore after driving to the hospital two times before within a week and coming back home without a baby.

They first went to the hospital seven days ago, certain to be in labor. As it turned out, it was a false alarm. Five days later, incidentally also Teresa's due date, the contractions started getting more intense again. This time they were regular and six to seven minutes apart, making Teresa believe that finally it was the real deal.

When they arrived at the hospital, however, the contraction frequency got completely irregular and a cervical exam showed that there had been no progress at all since their previous trip to the hospital. Teresa was so disappointed and felt so embarrassed that she wasn't able to distinguish real from false labor, that she cried most of the way home.

For the next days she had increasingly strong, but irregular contractions that she mostly ignored. She learned her lesson and was determined to only go back to the hospital to actually give birth.

Last night things started to feel different. She woke up every hour because of strong contractions, more painful than the ones before. At 3 AM she started walking through the house as she had read that this would help to speed up contractions. In her case, it slowed them down instead. By 5 AM she went back to bed and woke Patrick up, frustrated and tired of waiting alone. They started timing the contractions together and got excited when at dawn they came only five minutes apart and lasted almost a minute.

When they had been at the hospital five days ago, they had met Dr. Parker again and, after one of Patrick's very convincing monologues, she had agreed to be there for the delivery of their baby. So when the contractions last night continued in the same pattern for over an hour and lasted even longer, they dared to call her. Teresa was relieved when she told them to come by during the morning.

Now Teresa's bag is packed and all that is missing to actually drive to the hospital is the father of her baby, who disappeared upstairs before her latest contraction to go to the bathroom.

"Patrick?" She shouts again. "Come on, nobody at the hospital will care whether your hair is perfectly styled today."

This does the trick.

"Funny." He smirks at her, walking down the stairs. "You're mean when you're in labor."

"Yeah, experiencing piercing pain every five minutes and the prospect of more pain to come does that to me. What were you doing so long?"

He holds up a camera. "I forgot where I put this after taking the final pictures of you belly. We need to document our son's first day on earth. That is, _if_ today even is the day." He teases her.

"It is. I hope. Shouldn't you be able to judge if I'm really in labor? After all, you've been through this before."

Patrick looks a little uncomfortable, but Teresa knows that she doesn't need to apologize anymore for bringing up the past.

"Anna was born by emergency Cesarean after her heart rate suddenly dropped during a routine checkup. I wasn't allowed to be there. So..." He takes a deep breath. "... this is a first for me as well."

Teresa squeezes his hand and just wants to tell him that they'll get through this together, when another wave of pain rushes through her abdomen.

"Another one?" Patrick asks, steadying her with his arms.

She is only able to nod and rests her forehead against his chest, trying to breathe deeply and steadily. When she hears Patrick giving her breathing instructions and demonstrating the technique to her, she can't help chuckling.

"Don't make me laugh." She whispers, her body trembling with pain and laughter at the same time.

After half an eternity, just when she is sure she can't take it any longer, the contraction abates.

"I'm amazed that you even remember how to breathe." She tells him. "Seeing that you made fun of the instructor and got us kicked out of the course at the second meeting."

He doesn't seem the tiniest bit troubled by her accusation. "I'm a natural. And that DVD I got you to make up for it is priceless, isn't it?"

Suddenly Teresa wishes she had watched that DVD more often. But then again, probably not even watching it 24/7 would make her feel completely prepared for the frightening experience of child birth.

"Are you scared?" Patrick asks, soothingly rubbing her arms, as so often aware of her thoughts and feelings.

"I am." She admits. "But I really want to finally hold our son in my arms. And I look forward to being able to see my feet again."

"Well, then let's go and have a baby, shall we?" He gentlemanly offers her his arm and she links hers with it.

They make it only to the car before another contraction forces them to pause, but then they are finally on their way.

"You still want to be with me the whole time, right?" Teresa asks, in between contractions.

"Of course I do. Or did you change your mind?"

"Don't worry, I won't let you peacefully slumber in the waiting room while I squeeze out that kid." She tells him with a roguish grin. "I'm just checking if our agreement is still valid."

"It is." He leans over to kiss her when they stop at a red light. "I'll be with you the whole time and I won't get angry if you break my hand when you're in pain."

The clever remark she wants to deliver dies on her lips when another contraction makes her speechless. A look at the car radio display confirms that less than four minutes passed since the last one, so Teresa is glad when they finally arrive at the hospital.

Within half an hour she is changed into a hospital gown, has her blood pressure and temperature checked and got devices on her abdomen that monitor Sullivan's heart rate and her contractions. Finally Dr. Parker shows up to do another vaginal exam and Teresa grabs Patrick's hand, hoping that this time her cervix is dilated enough be be able to stay.

"5 cm." Dr. Parker announces. "Very good."

Teresa flashes Patrick a triumphant 'I told you so' smile and he kisses her knuckles in response. She is transferred to a labor room and is confident that now things will proceed quickly.

One hour and many contractions later her good mood is gone as she's not making any progress. At this point Teresa starts questioning her decision to refuse the pain medication or epidural Dr. Parker offered earlier, but she is still determined to get through this without them.

Patrick is a great help, rubbing her back and talking to her soothingly between contractions, but he soon learns that any touching except holding her hand _while_ she rides out a contraction isn't welcome. All that helps her then is breathing deeply and focusing on relaxing her muscles. After a while her new technique is panting and moaning and occasionally yelling.

At noon she asks the nurse to take the monitoring equipment off so she can walk around a little, unable to find a comfortable position in bed anymore. Next she settles down in a rocking chair until this becomes uncomfortable as well. She starts getting a little hungry and asks for some chocolate pudding, much to Patrick's amusement.

She only eats a couple of spoonfuls before another contraction hits her hard and she decides to go back to bed, where she promptly throws up all of her scanty meal. The nurse tells her that this is normal for some women when she brings her a new gown, but Teresa still feels pretty embarrassed.

The next checkup shows that she is now already at 7 cm and she feels exhilarated and encouraged that at least her suffering leads to some progress. Only minutes later, in the middle of a contraction, she feels her water break. Trying to point this out to Patrick and the nurse, who are just discussing baby names, she only manages to stammer "Water."

She starts laughing when Patrick rushes to her side and brings the straw of her water glass to her lips.

"No, my water just broke." She tells him, when the pain of the contraction subsides, and reaches out to caress his confused face.

His eyes light up. "That's a good sign."

"It is." She agrees and smiles, despite the fact that her bed, and as far as she can tell also the floor, are wet all over.

The nurse gets Dr. Parker, who makes Teresa happy by telling her that her cervix has dilated even more. The happiness fades away when the next two contractions feel like her son is trying to break out through her abdominal wall. She probably looks horrible as she tries to cope with her pain, because Dr. Parker asks her again if she wants any medication. This time, she nods, frantically. She again refuses to have an epidural, but she knows she won't be able to handle the pain much longer without anything to take the edge off a little.

After Dr. Parker and the nurse leave the room to get her medication, time seems to stand still. When they are still not back after another even more painful contraction, she starts to panic.

"Tell me something." She pleads, tightening her grip on Patrick's hand.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Anything. Entertain me."

He considers possible topics for a few seconds. "Okay. Did you know that I was very intimidated by you when I first met you?"

"Right." She chuckles, ignoring the pain that seems to spread out all over her body now. "Is that why you were totally smug and tried to undermine my authority right away?"

"I figured offense was the best defense after seeing how you blasted that poor policeman." He tells her with a grin. "You looked especially beautiful though in your anger."

She snorts, but isn't able to reply due to another strong contraction. This time she doesn't protest when Patrick climbs into bed with her and holds her tightly until she is almost pain-free again for a little while.

She turns around to face him. "Did you know that I considered you as a possible father for my future children right when we first met?"

"Actually, I did. You had that certain sparkle in your eyes." He teases her and kisses her forehead when she rolls her eyes.

He changes his position a little and pulls her between his legs, so that her back is resting against his chest and she can feel his heart beating against her. His hands gently stroke her belly and she starts feeling more comfortable than she did ever since she came to the hospital.

"This is nice. I think I can stay like this for a while." She tells him, when Dr. Parker finally returns and apologizes that another patient kept her away so long.

"That's okay, Patrick helped me to get through the pain." Teresa reassures her and holds on to Patrick's hands when the contractions return with full force.

After getting a small dose of Nubain, Teresa feels her strength returning as she is finally able to relax more or to even doze off between contractions. Dr. Parker leaves again after making sure that Teresa still isn't ready to deliver the baby. The nurse checks on them every ten minutes, but for almost an hour no further development happens.

As labor gets more intense, Teresa's starts getting more introverted. She tries to conjure up nice memories and images to block out the contractions. A summer day at the pool with her mother and brothers. The look on Patrick's face when she made it clear that she wants to be more than friends. The wonderful feeling of waking up next to him in the morning. The beautifully decorated room for their son, completely finished only a week ago.

She snaps back to reality all of a sudden and sends Patrick to get someone when she feels her son dropping and turning with a hard contraction. A frustrated groan escapes her mouth when she is told that she is still only at 8,5 cm. After several more painful minutes, she starts feeling the pressure and need to push and the nurse calls for Dr. Parker. Patrick sits down next to her and she clings to him while she rides out another contraction.

She is relieved when the doctor tells her that she is finally completely dilated, but her hopes to get to the last stage of labor are destroyed when she still isn't allowed to push yet. She understands when Dr. Parker tells her that her cervix could swell or tear if she doesn't wait, but at this point she is beyond caring what might happen to her body. She just wants this to be over with and be rewarded for all the trouble with a baby in her arms.

She tries to pant, then tries to hyperventilate just to help her stop pushing, but she barely can take it any longer. Without Patrick, she probably would have argued with the doctor and tried to get her way, but his voice filters down to her and manages to make her more patient than she thought possible.

"You've made it this far, the rest will be a piece of cake." He tries to convince her and she wonders how he can stay so calm. "Remember, you can always break my hand if you need to."

She moans and turns to her side to face him, holding on to his arms for support, and discovers that he looks more worn out and worried than his voice made her believe. It makes her smile, seeing that he, figuratively, is in labor with her. With his help, locking her eyes with his, she makes it through two more contractions without pushing, even though the urge is overwhelming.

She rolls herself onto her back and, after another checkup, the doctor finally speaks the redeeming words. "Okay, you can push now."

Even though this is exactly what she was waiting for, Teresa suddenly feels unable to do anything. Everything starts fading away. The beeping sound of the heart monitor. Patrick. The doctor. The nurse.

"Teresa!" Patrick's face emerges only inches away from hers and ends her torpor.

"Teresa?" Dr. Parker chimes in. "You really need to push now. When the next contraction comes, I want you to take a deep breath and push through the pain."

Patrick smiles at her encouragingly, his face tense but his look loving and encouraging. "Come on, let's try this. I'm right here at your side."

Teresa nods and feels prepared enough to follow the doctor's instruction when the pain returns. After pushing through three contractions, she gets a little discouraged because, as far as she can tell, nothing changes. Apparently there is progress though, as Dr. Parker announces that she can see the baby's head. When the nurse asks if Teresa would like a mirror to see for herself, she says yes. All she can see in the mirror is a little bit of dark hair on her son's head, but that's all she needs to really, finally want him to come out.

She starts pushing more forcefully, but gets distracted when Patrick announces that he's not feeling very well. It never occurred to her before that he of all people might get queasy while watching his baby being born. The nurse rushes to get him some orange juice, and he is back to normal right after drinking it. Maybe only the lack of food or fluids and the stress of taking care of her weakened him.

After pushing four more times, Teresa feels a slight burning and stretching of her perineum and immense relief as her son's head finally, miraculously emerges into the world. Dr. Parker cheers her on to push once more and suddenly the doctor holds a wet, squirmy baby in her arms.

At 5:27 PM, almost exactly seven hours (that felt much longer) after his parents arrived at the hospital, Sullivan fills his lungs with air and starts crying for the very first time. For Teresa and Patrick it's the sweetest sound they ever heard, even though they stare at him incredulously and can't quite believe that he is all of a sudden there. It feels surreal at first to be parents, but when the nurse puts the baby on Teresa's chest everything changes. His tiny little body feels soft and wonderful against her skin. He has dark blue eyes and a full head of dark hair that Teresa can't help stroking softly with her fingertips.

She looks from her son to Patrick and back, too overwhelmed to say anything and he seems to have the same problem. For a few moments Teresa and Patrick just enjoy looking at their perfect little miracle, amazed when he wrinkles his nose and then stops crying. Dr. Parker asks Patrick to cut the umbilical cord and Sullivan is wrapped in a blanket to keep him warm. Teresa tries to nurse Sullivan for the first time. At this point, he doesn't seem very interested in her breast though.

"He's probably only groggy from the delivery now. You can try later, after he's been looked over." The nurse hurries to appease her, noticing Teresa's agitation.

An infant nurse appears to examine the baby, but Teresa and Patrick are not ready yet to part with their son. Only after admiring him for a minute longer and telling him how wonderful and special and loved he is, they reluctantly hand him over to the nurse. Teresa hardly notices the expulsion of the afterbirth or Dr. Parker stitching up the small tear she suffered during the delivery, she is too engrossed in watching what is happening to Sullivan. He is weighed and measured and has to endure several tests, stating his opinion about all this several times by screaming loudly.

Patrick is with him and updates Teresa with every new result, like that their son weighs 8 pounds and 2 ounces, is 20.5 inches long and is absolutely healthy.

After what seems like an eternity, Teresa finally holds Sullivan in her arms again to give nursing another try. This time his mouth at least finds her nipple and he sucks at it a few times, but then he is more eager to yawn. So they decide to get him bathed and dressed first and Teresa encourages Patrick to accompany their son, feeling much better knowing that he will be there with him while she still needs to rest for a while.

She is moved over to a private room and she feels happy, tired and impatient to see Patrick and their son again - all at the same time. Determined to wait until her boys come back, she fights to stay awake, but soon she is helpless against the urge to sleep after being awake for such a long, stressful time.

When she opens her eyes again, it is almost dark outside, and she instantly detects the source of the sound that woke her up. Baby Sullivan, though safely protected in his father's arms, cries his eyes out.

"Look, mommy is awake." Patrick softly tells his son, and, much to Teresa's amazement, the crying stops immediately.

Teresa sits up and tells Patrick to bring the baby over. He tenderly places Sullivan in her arms and kisses first her lips and then the baby's forehead. "I think he might be hungry now."

Sullivan again doesn't latch on immediately, causing Patrick to reason with him. "Hey, she offered you her breast, buddy. Offers like that get rare when you grow up, you should accept it."

Teresa rolls her eyes, but to her great relief her son finally begins nursing.

"He must be really related to you, never able to resist a female breast." She comments with a smirk when Sullivan slurps loudly and appreciatively.

Patrick sits down at the edge of the bed and for almost an hour they watch their son drink and Patrick takes the first snapshots for their family album.

"How do you feel?" Patrick whispers at one point.

"A little sore, but happy." She replies with a smile. After another look at the bundle of joy in her arms, she adds, "Like a mom. It's the best feeling in the world."

He grins at her. "Feeling like a dad isn't bad at all either."

"Sullivan does suit him, doesn't it?" He asks after another few minutes of silently observing their son's drinking habits.

"Sullivan Patrick Jane." Teresa speaks out the full name of their son for the first time. "Nope, I couldn't think of any better name for him."

"Jane, really?"

"Sullivan Lisbon doesn't sound half as fancy. Besides, it would make no sense to give him my last same since I'll shed that name anyway sooner or later."

He beams with pride and joy, but then gets serious. "Well, since you mention it... I know I promised you pomp and all, but I can't really think of a more perfect moment to do this. I don't even have a ring yet, but... "

He is silenced by her lips before he can finish the sentence.

"Yes, I will marry you." She tells him with a smile after pulling back. "I don't need a ring. I only need you. And this little fellow here."

"You are really desperate to get married, huh?" He mischievously grins at her. "Not even letting me finish with my proposal before answering."

Their banter is interrupted when Sullivan begins to wriggle in her arms, obviously sated for now. Patrick quickly gets a cloth to place on Teresa's shoulder and she props the baby against her body. His little back settles into her palms, his hand rests on her chest and he sighs. Teresa gently rubs between his shoulders and he burps, spits up only a little, and the wrinkles above his tiny nose soften. Before she knows it, he falls asleep in her hands.

Carefully she shifts his body a little so she cradles him in her arms and they can watch him sleep.

"He really looks like a tiny version of you." Teresa says tenderly, after deliberately analyzing Sullivan's delicate features.

"He's a good-looking boy." Patrick concurs, and she is too infatuated with her son's perfectness to tease him about his self-praise.

Patrick softly touches the baby's lips with his fingertips, producing a cute pout. "He has your mouth though. And I'm pretty sure his hair will stay dark."

"He's a good mix of both of us then."

"He's perfect. And we weren't even trying." He adds, referring to the unexpectedness of the pregnancy that turned their world upside down.

"Imagine what we can achieve next time." She teases, only half joking.

"Really?" He is surprised. "Not that I wouldn't like to have more kids with you, but after seeing you give birth, I would understand if any woman wouldn't want to go through this more than once. Really, I'm proud of you. I probably would have fainted after the first contraction if _I_ had to squeeze him out."

"It was pretty bad." She agrees, touched by his words. "But I think it could have been much worse. In the end, all the pain was definitely worth it, don't you think?"

Looking at his sleeping son in Teresa's arms, Patrick really isn't in the position to argue over this.

"Can you put him in his crib and bring it closer to the bed?" Teresa requests when she is sure that Sullivan is fast asleep.

After Sullivan has settled down in this crib, Patrick sits down next to her again. "Do you think the nurses would frown upon me joining you in bed?"

"Since when do you care what people frown upon?" She asks with raised eyebrows and pats the mattress.

She places her head on his chest after he climbs into bed with her and they both keep looking at Sullivan.

"I could watch him sleep for hours." Teresa announces, feeling herself getting tired again as well.

"He is very entertaining." Patrick replies sleepily.

Suddenly Teresa is wide awake again. "What is _that_?" She asks, pointing at a huge teddy bear in a corner of the room.

"Oh, that. Sullivan's very first gift. He'll have to grow into it."

"Let me guess, Grace was here?" Teresa concludes, unable to think of anyone else enthusiastic enough about her son's arrival to buy such a toy.

"Bingo. She got here right after I called them at work." Patrick confirms with a smile. "She'll come back tomorrow and she'll bring Cho. And Rigsby, if she finds a way to drag him along. I suggested bribing him with food."

"That could work." Teresa laughingly agrees. "Did she see Sullivan?"

"Yes, through the window when he was at the children's ward. He already has her wrapped around his little finger. I think it was a good idea to ask her to be his godmother."

"Definitely. Did you call my brothers?"

"I did, and my parents. I can't believe I forgot to mention it."

"Looks like Grace isn't the only one who's affected by Sullivan's charm, huh?" She teases him. "What did they say?"

"Your brother Michael wishes us all the best and can't wait to come visit. Your brother Robert pretty much said the same. But he also wants me to tell you that he really appreciated talking to me on the phone and to know now that I'm not only a figment of your imagination. He wonders if he'll ever meet the man face to face who knocked up his big sister."

"That totally sounds like Rob." Teresa remarks, smiling at the thought of her little, sassy brother. "I hope you told him that it wasn't my fault that we weren't at home when he showed up announced last month."

"I did, no worries. My parents are thrilled about their newborn grandson, even though my dad will probably need some time to get over the fact that Patrick is only his middle name and my mom picked a fight because she still hasn't met you. I had to tell her that she is welcome anytime, so don't be surprised if she's waiting for us at home right after we leave the hospital."

"I can deal with your parents." Teresa mumbles sleepily against his chest, her exhaustion finally taking over. "It's a piece of cake compared to bearing a child."

Patrick gently strokes her hair, making her feel happy and relaxed and sleepy. She is about to doze off, when another thought enters her mind.

"Hey, do you remember the brand of condoms we used when I got pregnant?" She asks Patrick, out of the blue.

"Ehm, yes. Why?"

She smiles against his chest. "Remind me to write them a thank-you letter for the crappy quality of their product."

He chuckles and places a kiss on top of her head.

"Try to sleep a little, until Sullivan wants a second serving." He tells her and Teresa snuggles up to him.

Falling asleep, she basks in the wonderful feeling of being loved by the father of her son, by her best friend. And most of all, by the love of her life.


	12. Continuation

The creaking sound of the opening bedroom door raises Teresa out of her sleep. She slowly opens one eye a little, just enough to be able to see her husband attempting to tiptoe out of the room.

"No goodbye kiss?" She mumbles sleepily, but loud enough to make Patrick turn around and sit down next to her on the bed.

His lips softly brush against hers. "Better?"

"Not quite." She replies, suddenly more awake, and draws him closer to her to _really_ kiss him.

"You are very energetic this morning." He teases her after finally pulling away, softly stroking her sleep-ruffled hair. "It's pretty astounding, seeing how bad you felt last night."

Teresa groans as she vividly recalls her rebelling stomach after dinner. "I'll never eat lasagna again."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say exactly the same after getting sick when you ordered lasagna a few weeks ago?"

"I know." She admits, suppressing the urge to stick her tongue out at his smirking face. "But it tastes so good."

"Apparently it _is_ not good for you though. Next time, I'll make sure you'll have Pasta Primavera like Sullivan and me."

"I have the slight feeling that this will make me feel even worse. All those evil vegetables..."

Patrick looks adoringly confused after her statement, but she only grins at him and gives him another kiss. He'll understand later.

"I wish you could stay." She tells him, wanting nothing more than to spend the day in bed with him. And later also with Sullivan, when the little sleepyhead wakes up.

"Me too. But I have to go and tease a confession out of the guy you arrested yesterday. You know we can't keep him in much longer only based on my hunch."

Teresa sigh. "So it's my own fault that you have to go. I shouldn't have arrested him."

"No, I shouldn't have suggested to take turns at staying at home with our sick son. We could have just played hooky together for the past two weeks."

"That would have been nice. Totally irresponsible, but nice. I think we need a vacation."

"We do. For starters, let's do something fun all together this weekend." Patrick suggests. "We could go to the zoo, take a picnic lunch. Like we wanted to do the weekend Sullivan got sick."

"He'll love that. Staying inside the house while being sick was really hard for him."

Patrick gives his wife another goodbye kiss. Well, two actually. But then he is on his way to the CBI, while Teresa snuggles up in her blanket to get some more sleep.

When she wakes up again, the sun is already shining brightly outside the window. This time, the sound of little feet in plush tiger slippers and of giggling is responsible for ending her slumber.

She responds to her son's beatific smile with one of her own and Sullivan regards this as an invitation to take a running start and jump into bed with her. Teresa is relieved to see her son so vibrant again. Nothing reminds of him looking a picture of misery only a couple of days ago, when he was struggling against fever attacks and fits of coughing.

"Good morning, baby." She greets him, gently kissing his forehead, when his soft, warm body huddles up against her.

He makes the same reproachful face like when she dared to use this pet name in front of his best friend Scott and one of his kindergarten teachers. "I'm not a baby anymore."

Teresa playfully tousles his dark curls, secretly thinking that he'll probably always be her baby in her mind. "Of course not. You're my big boy who just bravely defeated a really terrible cold."

His face lights up and an impish gleam dances is his eyes. It's in moments like this, when he resembles his father the most. "Mommy, can we go to the playground today? Please? I'm really feeling much, much better."

"Maybe this afternoon. We'll see what your doctor says, okay?" She stalls him, finding it incredibly hard to not give in to Sullivan's request right away. "Are you hungry? Because I am starving. How about pancakes with chocolate chips?"

He is already out of the door before Teresa even gets out of bed, exclaiming all the way downstairs how much he loves pancakes for breakfast.

One and a half hour later, the two of them are in Sullivan's pediatrist's waiting room. Her son listens attentively as Teresa reads his currently favorite book to him, like always chuckling when she talks like a pirate to breathe life into one of the main characters. He frowns and corrects her when she accidentally skips a sentence, making it clear that he memorized the story. Watching Sullivan's intelligence grow daily is astonishing. It is hard to believe that the clever, curious boy by her side once begun as a single cell in her body.

Soon they are called in to see the doctor and Sullivan beams with joy when he is told that he can go back to kindergarten tomorrow and therefore to the playground this afternoon.

They make a short stop at Teresa's doctor's office, where Sullivan enthralls the nurses while Teresa is with the doctor. By the time she comes back to the front desk, her son got a balloon and two lollipops as gifts and the nurses compliment her on her great kid.

"Guess where we'll have lunch today!" Teresa prompts Sullivan, looking at him in the rearview mirror when they are on the road again.

He stops playing with his toy dinosaurs and wrinkles his brow, brooding on possible lunch spots.

"McDonald's?" He finally asks, full of hope.

She laughs. "No. Try again."

"I don't know. I hope there's no lasagna. I promised Daddy last night to not let you eat this. Never ever." He tells her with a serious face, that indicates that he intends to stick to his promise.

Teresa smiles - both at Sullivan's determination and Patrick's insolence.

"I don't think that your grandma will make lasagna for lunch."

"We'll have lunch with grandma and grandpa?" Sullivan asks excitedly.

"Yes." Teresa confirms. "Better than McDonald's?"

He nods enthusiastically, looking forward to spend time with his grandparents. They just visited him two days ago, but he always likes to go to their apartment which contains a lot of items that are very intriguing for a little boy.

When they arrive, Teresa helps her son out of his safety seat and he puts his small hand into hers when they walk from the parking lot to the house.

Teresa recalls meeting her in-laws for the very first time. She was extremely nervous, no matter how often Patrick assured her they would love her. His father immediately extended a warm welcome to her, his mother was a whole other matter though. When Maureen Jane, clad in an expensive-looking business suit and wearing her blonde, grey-tinged hair in an accurately cut bob, greeted her with an aloof handshake, Teresa was afraid the woman would never like her.

For the rest of the day, Maureen observed Patrick and Teresa interacting with each other and with baby Sullivan, always keeping her distance. When Teresa went down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to drink some water, Maureen came out of the guest room and stunned Teresa by tightly hugging her and telling her that she was glad to see Patrick finally happy again. From that moment on, the two women got along just great. Discovering that Maureen shares her sense of humor and loves to curse like a sailor, made Teresa like her even more.

Unfortunately, Sullivan didn't see his grandparents nearly often enough when they still lived on the East coast. So Teresa was happy when Maureen and Patrick Sr. decided a couple of months ago, after Patrick's sister and her family moved to Europe, to retire and to live in Sacramento.

Patrick Sr. and Maureen open the door together after Teresa rings the bell, like they do so often. At first glance, they seem like an odd couple. He, the former owner of a magic shop, likes to wear track suits and is always ready to show off with some spectacular card tricks. She one the other hand, a very successful lawyer until her retirement, is always dressed elegantly and radiates dignity. But the contrariness seems to work for them, for over fourty years already. They tease each other and they bicker a lot, but it's obvious that overall they care deeply for each other.

"Hi, my dear." Maureen greets Teresa, pecking her cheek, and then kneels down to hug her grandson. "You look much better today, honey."

"I can go back to kindergarten tomorrow. And to the playground this afternoon." Sullivan announces proudly, while Teresa hugs her suspiciously sullen looking father-in-law.

"Well, that's good news. Lunch is almost ready. Why don't you go to the living room with your grandfather and play with him while your mom and I prepare everything?"

Patrick Sr. already looks a lot less grumpy when Sullivan takes his hand and drags him to the next room, for once ignoring all the strange things - like various cuckoo clocks, a miner's lamp and various items that Teresa so far failed to identify - that grace the walls of the elder Janes' hallway.

"I know some new magic tricks, little Patrick. Want to see them?" He asks Sullivan, and Teresa wonders for the umpteenth time if he'll ever use his grandson's real name.

"What's with Pat?" Teresa asks Maureen when they set the table together.

"Just ignore him." Her mother-in-law rejects this with a shrug. "He's only pissed off because the TV stopped working and he wanted to watch people playing poker. Showing some tricks to Sullivan will be enough to cheer him up."

When all the dishes and silverware are on the table and Teresa asks if she can help with the food, Maureen doesn't answer but instead regards her intently for half an eternity.

"What?" Teresa inquires, blushing under Maureen's scrutinizing, knowing look.

Before she can get a reply, the doorbell rings and, after some noisy tumult in the hallway, Patrick Jr. enters the kitchen. He greats his mother with a hug and his wife with a kiss that's a little too passionate for Teresa's taste to be fully enjoyable in the presence of her mother-in-law. It does help her though to distract her from her almost-conversation with Maureen.

Soon they are all sitting around the table, indulging in the delicious food Maureen prepared and chatting. Teresa learned a long time ago that it is pointless to tell Sullivan not to talk with his mouth full while his grandparents are setting a bad example. After dessert is served, Teresa waits for Maureen's usual quip - this part of the meal is usually reserved for asking Patrick and Teresa if they intend to present her with more grandchildren anytime soon.

So far, every meal they all shared together ended this way. This time, the question doesn't come. Teresa, Patrick and Sullivan escape the house without having to justify their family planning or to discuss the advantages of having younger siblings. Strangely enough, Teresa feels slightly disappointed that the expected ritual didn't happen today.

She drives Patrick back to work since he walked from there to his parents' home and decides to briefly go up to the office with him. Officially she joins him to sign some papers, but secretly she wants to make sure that everything goes smoothly in her absence. Plus, Sullivan hasn't seen his godmother for far too long since Grace spent the last three weeks cruising the Caribbean Sea.

Teresa and Patrick leave their son with Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby and retreat to her office, being sure that Sullivan will have much more fun with the three agents than while watching his mother doing paperwork.

By the time Teresa has finished, Patrick is soundly asleep on his new favorite couch inside her new office. She places a soft kiss on his lips, careful not to wake him up. Yes, she should tell him that sleeping on the job is inacceptable and usually she would (even though she would only pretend to be mad), but seeing that she is technically off duty today and that he looks cute when he sleeps, she lets him get away with it.

After sticking a post-it on her husband's forehead that tells him to pick up some bread and milk on the way home, she leaves her office and sees Rigsby pushing her son on a swivel chair through the room at a terrific speed. Minelli would get a heart attack if he'd still work here, Teresa thinks. The younger agent's eyes express sheer horror when he sees her standing in the doorway, but Sullivan is all smiles.

"Sorry, boss." Rigsby murmurs, unable to meet Teresa's eyes.

"That's okay, Rigsby." She tells him, an amused smile playing on her lips. It never ceases to amaze her, how insecure he was when Sullivan was a baby, but as soon as the boy learned to walk and talk they became the best buddies.

They say goodbye to 'Auntie Grace' (who promises to let Sullivan sleep over at her place soon) and 'Uncle Wayne' (who still looks a little embarrassed) and 'Uncle Kimball' (who was just defeated by Sullivan in a staring contest, although Teresa secretly assumes he let the kid win).

Sullivan, emulating his daddy, is asleep when Teresa pulls into their driveway. She carries him up to his room, thinking that he seems to be heavier each time she does that, and puts him in his bed. After doing some much neglected housework, she feels tired enough to join her son for a nap. For a while she watches him sleep peacefully, happy that he is finally healthy again. It doesn't take long until Sullivan's steady breathing lulls her to sleep as well.

Almost two hours later, Sullivan wakes his mother up, demanding to finally go to the playground. They grab Sullivan's sandbox toys and leave a note for Patrick on the kitchen table, then they head for the nearby park.

Teresa settles down on a bench close to the sandbox and opens her book. For a casual observer it might seem that she is absolutely engrossed in her reading. She always has an eye on her son though as well. Reading while still paying attention to her surroundings - a skill she has acquired and refined in the years of being a mother.

"Sullivan!" She shouts and wags a finger at her son, when he tries to steal a sand mold from a girl about his age who looks like she's about to start crying.

Sullivan lets go of the toy and waves at Teresa, grinning at her just like his dad and making it impossible to be really mad with him. She watches him negotiate with his playmate and, after a while, the girl gives him the sand mold in exchange for a spade.

Reassured, she turns back to her book, when she suddenly feels two hands on her shoulders.

"What's a woman like you doing at a place like this?" A familiar voice asks teasingly and she turns around to return Patrick's smile.

He sits down next to her and kisses her hello. "The note on the kitchen table wasn't necessary, I knew anyway where to find you two. Your book was gone, so were Sullivan's sandbox toys and his old sneakers."

She rolls her eyes at this demonstration of his observation skills. "I thought it would be nice to leave you a note, like in any normal family."

"A note like a shopping list taped to my face? That's normal?" He teases her and kisses her before she can roll her eyes at him again.

"You're home earlier than I thought, seeing that you had to catch up on work after falling asleep." Teresa continues their conversation, not ready to stop their bantering just yet.

He grins at her. "Yeah, my strict boss wasn't there, so I left early after my nap without doing anything productive all afternoon."

"Daddy!"

Patrick jumps up when he hears his son's voice and catches him in his arm to whirl him around like an airplane. He patiently listens afterwards when Sullivan babbles about his adventures at the office and about finding his mommy asleep in his bed when he woke up from his afternoon nap. After a while their son stops talking and looks with fascination past Patrick. The sound of the bell of the ice cream truck soon tells Teresa and Patrick what caught their son's attention.

"Can we get ice cream?" Sullivan asks, his big, blue eyes shining with excitement. Without a doubt, he inherited his mother's sweet tooth.

"Okay." Teresa gives in, not minding some ice cream herself. "But only one scoop. It's almost time for dinner."

Patrick asks Teresa what flavor of ice cream she wants, but Sullivan answers for her. "Mommy always has chocolate, like me."

As they walk away toward the ice cream truck, Teresa hears Sullivan ask Patrick if he can really only have one scoop. Patrick confirms her given restriction and Teresa smiles to herself. After some initial problems when adjusting to raise a kid together, they really have each other's back.

They come back and Sullivan carries his own cone with both hands, completely focused on it to avoid dropping it. Patrick hands Teresa her ice cream and all three of them sit down on the bench, Sullivan in the middle, and silently eat their treat. Teresa notices, not for the first time, that Sullivan and Patrick have the same facial expression and make the same gestures when they eat. With ice cream it's especially obvious. Their foreheads are wrinkled, their heads are slightly tilted and they focus completely on the food in their hands.

Teresa can't help playing with the soft curls at the nape of her son's neck and he wriggles and pretends to be annoyed, but she knows he secretly loves when she does that. It doesn't take long and he huddles up against her. She puts her arm around his small shoulders and sees Patrick smiling happily at the scene in front of his eyes.

Sullivan eats his ice cream and licks the rest of it out of his cone as far as his little tongue can reach. He never eats the cone though, it ruins the taste of the ice cream he once explained. Instead, he offers his empty cone to his parents, but as so many times before, they decline.

"If uncle Wayne would be here, he'd eat it." The boy states with certainty and Teresa laughs.

"Probably, but he's not here. It's okay if you put it in that trash can over there."

"I could give it to him later." Sullivan insists.

"Honey, not even Uncle Wayne likes stale ice cream wafers." Teresa tries to convince her son and motions to Patrick that she really could need some support here.

"I wouldn't count on that." Her husband mumbles under his breath instead, not being helpful at all.

"See all those birds there?" Teresa asks her son, making one last attempt instead of just taking the ice cream cone home and promising to give it to Rigsby the next day. "They are hungry. I think they'd like to have your ice cream cone for dinner."

Sullivan looks at the birds, then at the cone in his hand, then back at the birds. Finally he decides that he doesn't want to be responsible for the birds having no dinner and walks over to the trash can.

A man walks by and tousles Sullivan's hair, then waves at Patrick and addresses him. "Thanks man, it really seems to work."

"What was that about?" Teresa asks Patrick when the man is out of earshot.

Patrick only shrugs his shoulders and remains silent.

Luckily for Teresa, Sullivan is more verbose and still at an age when keeping information from his mother doesn't cross his mind. "Daddy did something funny with the man when we got the ice cream."

Patrick puts a finger on his lips, trying to signal his son to not rat him out, but quickly feigns innocence when Teresa eyes him suspiciously.

"What did Daddy do?"

"He hi... hi.." He looks at his father for help when he fails to find the right word, but Patrick only shrugs his shoulders again.

After giving it some thought, Teresa comes up with a possible explanation. No, he wouldn't. Or would he? "Hypnotized?"

Sullivan excitedly jumps up and down. "Yes, that's it. He hi... hi-po-nized the man. He looked very weird when Daddy did that. So funny."

"Traitor." Patrick mockingly scolds his son and Sullivan chuckles, covering his mouth with both hands.

"Can I go back playing?" Their son asks, losing interest in this conversation now that he told everything he knows.

"Okay." Teresa permits. After all, she has a bone to pick with her husband and her son doesn't need to witness this. "But not for long, we'll go home soon."

She waits until Sullivan is away far enough and busy with building a sand castle before dealing with Patrick's misdemeanors. "You hypnotized a man? In front of our four year old son?"

"Four years and two months." Is his reply, as if that would make everything better.

"Still, he's very impressible. Next thing we know, he's trying to hypnotize the neighbors' cat to make her believe she's his cat. Seeing how much he resembles you, he might even succeed."

"Mrs. Gruber would get a fit."

"Exactly."

"Hey, don't be mad." He tells her, showing her his most convincing and soothing smile and taking her hands in his. She has the feeling that she won't stay mad much longer if he keeps this up and he knows it. "I actually did a good deed when I hypnotized the man."

"You did?" She asks, already feeling her anger fade away.

"I did. He was smoking in Sullivan's direction and I asked him to stop that. He was actually kind enough to put the cigarette out and to apologize. And he explained that he tried quitting a lot of times, but it never worked."

"So you hypnotized him to make him stop smoking."

"Yes." He embraces her and leans his forehead against hers. "I won't hypnotize anyone in front of Sullivan again until he's of legal age."

"You better don't."

He kisses the remains of her pout away and she sighs, aware that she has already forgiven him. She doesn't really mind that he has the power to resolve her anger with some sweet talk and some kissing - not since she knows that this also works the other way round and she has the same power over him.

"You know what scares me?" She asks him after a while.

"What?"

"That in less than nine months you'll have a second, even younger victim for your tricks."

He looks perplexed, then incredulous and finally hopeful. "Nine months? You mean...?"

She nods and brightly smiles at him, happy to be able to share the news with him. She suspected what was going on with her body for a couple of days already, but didn't want to get her and Patrick's hopes up until seeing her doctor. "Guess it wasn't lasagna poisoning after all."

He fervently kisses her and this time, with no mother-in-law around, she returns his affections wholeheartedly until she becomes aware that they are in a very public place.

"Finally." Patrick whispers, when she pulls away, and then adds with a grin, "Told you that having lots of sex will eventually lead to success."

Finally - that one word expresses that he was all the time as worried as she was. They tried to cheer each other up when month after month passed and Teresa was still not pregnant. At first they thought it was funny that with Sullivan she got pregnant despite using protecting, but when they actually tried to conceive it didn't work. After over a year of trying it wasn't funny at all anymore, especially since all tests showed that both of them were healthy and should have no trouble having another baby.

He puts his hands on her still flat belly and gently strokes it.

"I can't wait to see you getting chubby again." He tells her with a smirk.

She slaps his arm, but can't quite suppress a smile. "Charming, really."

They look over at Sullivan and Teresa suddenly is afraid what her son, who so far never mentioned wanting a sibling, will say when he hears the news.

"He'll be a great big brother." Patrick reassures her, sensing her worries. "He will probably teach his little brother or sister more nonsense than I ever could, but he'll do just fine."

Teresa recalls the times she saw Sullivan interacting with babies before. He was nothing but tender and careful and fascinated with them. Patrick is right, she has no reason to worry.

"Come on, let's go home." He tells her, standing up and holding his hands out for her.

They try to convince Sullivan that it is time to leave and end up helping him building his sand castle for another half an hour. They have fun, so neither of them minds getting home later than originally planned.

Finally they start walking home, Sullivan sitting on Patrick's shoulders and enjoying to be able to look over all the fences and hedges.

"Mommy?" He asks, when examining the neighbors' properties becomes boring. "Is there a baby in your belly?"

Teresa is totally taken aback and, looking at her husband, she knows that Patrick is just as stunned as she is. "Ehm, why do you think that?"

"Because I saw how Daddy stroked your belly. Scott's daddy did the same when his little brother was still in his mommy's belly."

Teresa and Patrick exchange an amused look.

"Would you like to have a little brother?" Patrick asks his son.

Sullivan takes his time thinking about this possibility before answering. "That would be okay. Or a sister, that would be even better."

"A sister, really?" Teresa chimes in.

"Yes." Sullivan confirms, nodding eagerly. "Scott says that his little brother always tries to grab his cars and his new digger. And his dinosaurs. His sister plays with dolls and coloring books, all the girls in kindergarten do."

Teresa grins at his logic, but also feels the urge to let him know that girls are not necessarily that uncomplicated regarding their choice of toys. She knows what she's talking about. "Some girls like to play with cars and dinosaurs, too."

Sullivan resolutely dismisses this idea. "Not if you buy her lots and lots of great dolls."

"We'll see what we can do, buddy." Patrick tells him, putting the boy back down on the ground at their front door.

Sullivan immediately puts his arms around Teresa and presses his ear against her stomach.

"I don't hear anything." He complains.

Teresa strokes her son's head. "It's still too early. Mommy's belly must get much bigger before you can feel the baby move and hear it."

"Okay. Tell me when." Before Teresa can say anything else, he takes off his sneakers and runs upstairs to his room, probably to take stock of all his toys before his little brother or sister arrives to take them away from him.

He is back though in only a minute to ask another question. "How did the baby get into your belly?"

Teresa is only able to stutter, being caught off guard by the question. She knew he'd ask something like that one day, but she still isn't prepared for it. "I think..." She tells her son after seeing Patrick's gleeful grin. "... your Daddy can explain this much better."

Sullivan expectantly looks at his father, who all of a sudden seems very uncomfortable. "Ehm...I... I'll tell you tonight, instead of reading a bedtime story to you." He tells Sullivan, playing for time.

"That was mean." He complains after their son leaves to play with his dinosaurs in the sitting room.

"Sorry. I panicked. I was always dreading the day when he'd ask that."

"I could tell him a story about birds and bees and storks." Patrick contemplates.

"No, he should know the truth. I bought a children's book a couple of months ago about where the babies come from. It's really great. You can use it to explain it to him."

"Can we please do this together?" He pleads. "After all, we're both responsible that you got pregnant and that he wants to know how it happened."

Seeing his nervous expression, she shows mercy and agrees. Relieved, he puts his hands on her belly again and is silent for a while, apparently deeply lost in thought.

"What?" Teresa finally asks, confused by his behavior.

"I think Sullivan gets what he wants. It's a girl."

"Oh, shut up. You can't possibly know that." She playfully hits his arm and walks toward the kitchen to start with dinner preparations, smiling at Patrick's attempts to convince her of his 'talent'.

34 weeks later, Mathilda Katherine Jane is born, refusing to reveal her gender until leaving her mother's womb. Needless to say, Patrick is gloating that once again his prediction of their baby's sex proved to be right. Teresa, looking at the adorable little baby girl in her arms, doesn't care at all.

Okay, maybe a little.

Maybe enough to consider a third pregnancy to put his powers to a final test.

**~ The End ~**


End file.
